Poems from all.walker
If I'd gone outside I would have sweat until I melted into a puddle, so I chose to sit in the kitchen until the air conditioning dried my skin into cracking crevices that exposed my bloody interior. Such was the afternoon I subscribed to Power Poetry. Poetry is a sort of maddness.
“Do Not Cross Tracks”:
She was “Dying to get there”;
one of those people that those signs are made for.
She tripped while crossing the...
Reflections About Heartbeats
“Kneeling bus” reads the side of Phoenix’s primary mode of public transportation. And it’s true. Each bus...
Always our mother would snap and snarl,
“You weren’t raised in a barn!”
No! We were raised on a concrete savannah!
Hot pavements and fast...
it's wording will infest
the cautious corners of your mind
take root in the corn-row creases of your brain
and send blooms out your mouth
I am stranded on the platform with the Crazies.
Don't look anyone in the eye
and, if they ask:
No, you do not carry cash.
No, you do not...