Tags » Prose Poem

Life is...

empty when full
and full when empty.
Like the chaotic symphony
of the colorless cocoon
(no larger than a thimble)
unwinding into a mile long… 117 more words



I used to cruise the streets of Cerritos listening to early-Snoop, gritty lyrics assaulting the roof of my car as if the words were trying to break free to sodomize the suburbs. 84 more words


And then I suddenly remembered how I had punched the wall last night at the culmination of a dream that involved a dog, a truck and my fiancé, in what was likely only a mundane situation that my crazy emotions had inflated into some big ordeal Рthen laying in darkness with heaving chest panting big deep angry breaths, her hand reaching over to land on the nape of my neck, assuring me that I was not alone, cradling me back into further madness.


soulquest, xiv (plenty)

i tried offering you
another love song
today, but
my poor hands
came up empty;
then my heart
said to them,
what you don’t


How to create a Master piece

I wanted to paint life in its rich palette of pastels;
sunflower yellows, caterpillar greens, pomegranate reds,
and its blessed hues of honeycomb gold, aster blue and… 289 more words



At work sometimes I walk to a concrete fence under the burning sun, and I write prose poems on my phone. 

1. Where does the dream end? 76 more words

Here Comes The Bones Of The Terrible Wife

Hype is an amazing pair of goggles, as is confusion. If you can bewilder an audience with enough style and controversy, it fools people into thinking your content is good: this applies to any form of art. 270 more words