You didn’t read
Stop complaining that school didn’t teach you about the real deal of living — the broken hearts, the strange politics, the empty wallet, the hankering
Sometimes I write. All other times, I create.
Stop complaining that school didn’t teach you about the real deal of living — the broken hearts, the strange politics, the empty wallet, the hankering
I want to tell you/
that the end of love/
is not a war with victors/
although there might be sides./
A piece of meat tells the story/
of inlets and archipelagos,/
where a couple of fins/
have propelled shiny scaled skin/
from the secrets of the depths/
into your mouth.
We poets are shameless people. We try to give whoever reads our poems something that they simply cannot shake. – James Dickey
By Shakira Andrea Sison I was at the end of a three-person turnstile line when I heard the sharp sucking of teeth and multiple grunts
You disappeared one day./
You took your brilliant words/
and perfectly timed guitar taps/
and the ends of my sentences away./