Poetry

"...Her ochre now home among the yellow friends..."

"...Dreams are made up of stardust, The origins of heat and dust..."

"...someday I'll put away childish things and accept the death sentence of being a grown up..."

"...learning how deep a night could grow without New York City lights..."

"...Money is spent hieroglyphs to the child mind..."

"...like snare drums in the open sky..."

"...while seeking all alive on Halloween..."

"...One note black crow..."

"...We seemed to be ghosts tied to each other. From ankle to ankle..."

"...under the folds of the quilted cover..."

"...A shell remains on this assembly line, where disintegration is the prime purpose..."

"...I couldn't stand the heat of heaven..."

"...snapping apart careening us against the long cold night..."

"...transformed their blindness into alertness..."

"...in the prison of servitude..."

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the U.S. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts.

"...show me the glowing fire from dying embers..."

"...show those good for nothings just what a real bottom feeder looks and smells like..."

Is an act of faith a choice?

"...They stoop and rise to the rhythm of life..."

"...autumn's splendor, you winder guest..."

A poem for Autumn...

"...Stuck in the frenzy with bare-anger clotheslines..."

"...the glow retreats, done is the day of toil..."

"...I had it all, I wanted more..."

"...an adventure to roam through states and cities..."

"...Let's call this what it is..."

"...It's just lunchtime but way past dark..."

"...a last tomato ripens in a sunlit window..."

"...when creaky pipes were burglars..."