Tayve Neese: Prophecy of the Four-Legged
The horned things knew
the scent of blood usurping sweet hay
as the woman cracked and sang.
October 20, 2021 · 1 Comment
Tayve Neese: Still, we wait for sounds of plumage
Still, we wait for sounds of plumage
in this world even angels shun.
August 2, 2021 · 2 Comments
Tayve Neese: At thirteen
Oh, Mariah, my life is now an apology
for how I forgot you, and let the tide
of my own life take me out to sea
when I knew that you needed me.
June 23, 2021 · 1 Comment
Tayve Neese: I believe in chakras
tankas and sonnets
are a species of orchid
December 7, 2020 · Leave a comment
Tayve Neese: Inside her muscle, a blossom,
This is what the tumor had done,
reduced the whole world to nothing
but metaphor
October 14, 2020 · 5 Comments
Tayve Neese: He says, it’s so shallow
murex shells teaching
wisdom of spirals
September 16, 2020 · 1 Comment