Ballerina With Fins Poems

She, under her
Big smile stows
away
the unhappy memories
...

what is poetry anymore/is it this? /
a parade of words/blank ants
crawling across the page/in
a series of condensed/paragraphs.
...

Her hands were bound
to puppet strings
she couldn't run
she couldn't scream.
...

sitting in the warm comfort
of our home, i squabble
with my little sister over your
newly-baked
...

He escaped from the circus,
shark-eyed, white-gloved.
His nose redder than Eve's Apple,
his face whiter than the white of Death.
...

Absent Friends;
here's to them.
...

and all the men and women merely players?
...

Cloudy green
Lush Forest, made
of the stuff
dreams are made of,
...

My
Chanel
lipstick
seems
...

Beware; they say, Beware.
Be wary, be watchful; Beware.
Be shady and shaky and farfetched;
the warning; do beware.
...