Sunday, September 12, 2004
The Virgin Conquistador
He lures them in Such sweet girls Mere flowers for picking Angel faced orchids With rubies for lips As they spread for him Like petals on satin sheets Waiting to blossom, But then he plucks them One by one, only to discard The rotting stem when he is done. Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 7:48 AM Comments (7) (permalink)
Thursday, September 9, 2004
Memories of you littered across the white cool countertop, classic the unopened bills waiting to be pried by busy fingers, neglected your voice on the machine hauntingly accurate, as I punctuate your laugh, accordingly your smell, intoxicating as meretriciously I comb through your belongings,... Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 6:38 PM Comments (9) (permalink)
Friday, September 3, 2004
My hands still on the piano, afraid the venomous keys may strike, I pull back but then, in wild frustration I pound the ivory so hard, the man from across the hall taps an angry broom at the door. “Michela, shut that child!” My mother smiles brilliantly oh, how the moon envies her skin the soft... Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 7:31 PM Comments (13) (permalink)
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Son of the sea you drown everything in your dark waters yet you haven't taken me to bed and so I still stir the burn of moonlight from the sun. Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 8:41 AM Comments (10) (permalink)
Monday, August 23, 2004
Must you always beat babies from mommy. Oh, how they cry when they wake. Hush, don't stir the pot. Tip-toe, tip-toe, oh, so soft, babies sleeping like smeared embryos on toilet seats. Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 7:49 AM Comments (9) (permalink)
Friday, August 20, 2004
Another Skanky Ho
Men always leave the nice girls with porcelain faces dreamy lips and starry eyes for girls less angelic you know the ones with lanky hair smudged make-up and legs that stay open twenty-four hours a day pumping business in and out like a gas station or freeway or strip joint on the corner where you... Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 5:44 PM Comments (15) (permalink)
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Mother spit on my face before she said I look just like my dear drunken father Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 7:06 AM Comments (12) (permalink)
Thursday, August 12, 2004
The Fruit Stand
Silent Still-life fleshy fruit heart juicy with paint searching for canvas to drip on Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 6:07 PM Comments (8) (permalink)
I spit on illusion Dreams washed up And abandoned Like a beached whale Suffering much like The way people Drip-dry each other For answers to questions Unknown to man Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 7:54 AM Comments (6) (permalink)
Monday, August 9, 2004
Sylvia, you haunt my waking words penned on crucified pages ethereal scripture true to form like the gospel of death ringing Cathedral bells that February morn Your apostle thought, prose-like collecting more feminine dialogue than a fertile womb, I’ve taken to spiritual posturing like a disciple at... Sign in to see full entry.
posted by MiaElla at 4:41 PM Comments (12) (permalink)
About this Blog
Warm, Organic Poetry