Something Precious

Eventually the sum of infinity catches up to my panting Achilles
The wolf closes, encircles, halving Zeno’s paradox striking distance
Something precious like a final breath betwixt time’s pendent jaws
My single bleated prayer offered up as a lamb just before his pounce

Turn Out The Lights

Somewhere the party never stopped
Somewhere the 7th floor of the Sheraton
in Madison, Wisconsin is still shaking its head
Gathering its tables and chairs up from outside

Somewhere there are still packed music venues
With sweaty teenagers hanging on every note
By just word of mouth and zero promotion
Somewhere the ice cream man ain’t talkin bout love

Places That I Have Never Been

I’ve never been to Disneyland
But I know what it’s like to be disappointed
Mickey is just some dude

Poets Anonymous

Hi, my name is Cara and I am a poemoholic
It’s only been 24 hours since my last sonnet
And it’s been 13 days since the last time I’ve
used the words coruscant and tattered in a line

A Collector of Highs

I’m a collector of highs
Like a nano journalist
Clung to the necks of crows
I am murders of knowledge
That comes only by scavenging
Through trash and old cigarettes
To find a shiny thing worth holding
I am the art of the cuttlefish

My Slaughter

My love is an abattoir
And if my heart was glass
Nobody would ever come in
If you are brave enough to look
You’d see the carnage of my intention
Splattered across bedroom floors

Weltschmerz

My inside pulled out heart
Is a 300 gram autobiography
Broken, bleeding and revealing
Systolic wars and diastolic peace
Beats between nausea and hope
Scrawled in my lost arrhythmia
Like the cadence of a rainstorm

The Escape Artist

Fawn eyed creatures
Like me have no chance
My ocean targeted. Dredged
Every sea dollar spent
My hiding spots albescent
Snowing and pregnant with plastic
I hide out during the workday
Sitting on my gender neutral throne
My island at my job. I write poems
While pretending to excrete
While thinking these words

The Voice of Alexia

They say the gauge of railroad tracks
Is the same width of Roman chariots
When i hear the trains go by every night
Trumpeting their 7 million dollar suicidal horns
I hear the clickity clack over Chinese immigrants
Backs and listen to the Christian and the lion
Still negotiating some kind of deal