Paint the Town Red - Chapter 1
I've tried a bit of everything, some haikus, limericks, free verse, iambic pentameter; i even tried writing an epic poem once!" "why'd you stop?" kerry asked.
I've Lost Count of the Homes That I Have Lost
I've lost count of the homes that I have lost. One time too many I've been driven out. On futile search my substance to exhaust, In barren soil to sow my crop of doubt. I am no longer young. My years have worn Onto the age I ought to put down...
Blank Verse Essay On the Treachery of Hope
You must learn how to live and not to hope For hope will be a luxury ere long. For hope can be both manacle and chain. For hope can keep you too spellbound to run Until the waters rise too high, and boil. You would not be the first. In ages...
Either Your God Hates Me Or Your Religion Doesn't Work
If you are queer, and still hold to some faith Of whatsoever christian sect, then I Have no desire to undermine with doubt What must remain a precious source of strength, And must have been most difficult to keep. So please do not regard what I...
Account of Presumed Ecstatic Experience during Initiation Rite in Unidentified Mystery Religion
It doesn't really matter how I died. Whether of time or tide or tiredness, But after this, the journey of my life I woke, to find myself in a dark wood. The way was lost, the night was long, and I Was more alone than I had ever been. It...
Ragnarok - I
Somewhere it was autumn, and the trees Hung undecided, torn between the fear Of concrete skies and black obsidian nights And clung to fading leaves, yet still they felt A dark desire to let the summer drop, To scatter to the wind their...
Ragnarok - VII
"I died not," Varr breathed shallowly, "I woke Midmorning, by a gentle brook. How far I'd skirmished from satanic swamplands I Had no surmise. Three days I nursed my wounds, And then I took the mission meant for Luke, To warn the Old Man. As I...
Blank Verse Essay on Intentionality in Queer Fiction
I will not say here, 'no more happy ends.' I won't presume to undercut the need For stories of queer heroes of queer worlds Where homophobia has never been. For gods of sunset, moon, and winter know That if no tale but such as these were told...
Eight Minutes and Forty Six Seconds on June Twelfth, Two Thousand Twenty
The rain continues. No thunder dares ring. No winds howl. All is silence, save the sound Of distant trucks down on the interstate. I tell myself, pretend it is the sea That all this rain, perhaps, will wash into. And I remain in silence. What must...
Willow and Wisteria ~ Chapter 3 ~
So i wanted to see if it was a haiku or some kind of iambic-“ “who knew the fine arts would've been useful someday.
Ragnarok - VI
"In coolness of that evening we stood guard Atop the knoll our mastery had turned To barrow. As the hidden sun went down We watched the pit as does a mongoose, for The snout of the great serpent to appear. While there we watched we argued: How to...
Portrait of a Lonely Wolf
For every day, somebody else has left. For every day, another empty house. For every day is closer to the day When he will be the only one still here. The only one to never find a way To any other place. His road goes but In circles. And he...