the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Category: poetry (page 7 of 63)

hurricane draft

hurricane draft

when it started…
hearing his voice
(like sunlight on your face)
became… natural.
and his words
were… (wind in your hair)
Art.
to make you. pace.
blown away –
(mon trésor, mon amour)
cattails.
floating on the breeze.

safe bet

safe bet

i would never
tell
how he invited
he asked and begged
and i did… Continue reading

his birthday

Per Australia time, it’s my husband’s (“ex husband”) birthday today. Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s been a minute since I’ve written poetry. It spilled from my fingertips tonight: Continue reading

is no above

i turned. mySelf… i mean. US. i SCREAMED it
AND NO ONE listened or pretended to
plead. recognize what happens. piles of shit.
becoming sick from where you can’t see YOU.
i woke up and acted for the sake of
US. i crawled and scratched off sickness again.
i choked on concepts. ever. above.
sacks of skin begging for a sight of… than.
please bid me purpose. to say… i’ve been. touched.
if i escape time, that means. i killed. when…
wishes of sharing… it matters so… much.
being. born. to know where WE all came from.
where there’s no below. there IS no ABOVE!

evaporation (of self)

evaporation (of self)

can you recall? reaching. without. darkness
was knowing how to smile. without. smiling
like a canvas with no painter. artless.
what do i know? a silence in writing.
i physically broke. time. 36 months
of panting and turning with no wake up.
and no one looked. for me… not even once.
i screamed and i smashed. i cracked. a glass cup
spilt. it’s ok. i can clean that. clear. gone.
a calculated step means no. erase.
she inhaled pollution and exhaled songs;
verses of better with no pace or race –
do you remember? how to walk? no… sound;
single rhythm dance. a place with no ground.

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