hide white rose bouquets in your shotgun case,
nuzzle burnt cork stubble on her tender face,
stroke velvet cheeks with your torn leather glove,
romantic surprises from skylights above,
crash through her window, wait in a dark place.
your shattered glass snowfall leaves not a trace
except on her bed, where arrangements there of
botanical art hide the jagged-edged blades
that cut into her, leaving scars in the shape
of each mystery land she imagines you rove—
her knight in drab armor, the one who once drove
her home on his motorbike, a team solitaire race
against reason and rhyme, against time, against space:
oh, it’s a hard to be a badass when you’re in love.
poetry
A small sampling of things I've written over the years that could arguably fall under the general blanket of "Poetry." Much of the poetry you see here was originally published on Five By Five Hundred, and you can also find my stuff in upcoming issues of Asimov's magazine. (please note: this isn't actually structured into any kind of order or anything)