Pull After Pull

she will soak
the sleepless night
with her praise,
as glistening sheets
where they may
fleeing from folds of limbs,
bids that bend,
moans and yips
that rinse the walls
amongst rain scented
pillow cases
that cup and caress
strained faces
the moon,
she will rush the room
push and pull
and you will float
and you will drift,
and come to shore
where you may
– B. Brown
(image courtesy of Pinterest)

As Can Be

I caught you staring at me,

as if I were a thing of beauty

as if these scars didn’t maul

the silk of my skin

as if you weren’t afraid

to freeze in the blizzard

of my gaze,

as if there wasn’t blood

smeared from my chin

to my cheek

as if my lungs weren’t soaked

with the tar

of my angst

I saw you

see me as I was

before hand

you saw me

as the woman

I hoped 

to be

– B. Brown

(art by Aby Mackie)

Surprise Gift

I told her

where not to touch,

not to bite,

not to pinch

what tickled

made me jerk,

went too deep

made me spasm

but the gasps…

and the moans

the pleasure

and the past

the rest

it didn’t matter

as I was lathered

with a sudden rapture

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)


sharpening, refining

till the edge sheds with a kiss

    and tomorrow,

    which trenches

    will be torn through?

buffing, shining

till the spine is glistening

    and who’s life

    will trickle

    from the grip to tip?

engraving, unveiling

till championed and praised

    and today

    what wars

    will be faced?

– B. Brown

(art by Mariusz Szmerdt)


how did I let this happen?
the dust settling
leaves applauding
silence preluding
with a cracking voice
bit lip
and quivering chin
it’s all in dissolution
the serpent striking
it’s own tail
within my grip
and the knife slips
clattering to the pavement
and there will be payment
no matter how sweet
the leaks
from my goblet
how could this happen?
the sly slaughterers
observe from the sides
it’s all fallen away
and I made it happen
with a single wave
what is there left
to save?

– B. Brown

(image by self-taught visual artist Fabio Selvatici)

Why Not?

why not enjoy it while it lasts
this truth that’s come to pass
nothing flourishes forever

love you or not, maybe I need you
why not, maybe you’ll want me to stay
why test it, why pick at it

there will never be another night
quite as cool or quite as calm
quiet enough to let dawn sneak in

above two souls quite like ours
love me or not, we’re here, and needy
we can break promises safely

as if it weren’t by chance you found me
as if it weren’t by fate that I prayed for you

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)


this one time,
for one night only,

you belonged to me
and I was nobody’s,

free to be reckless,
as rough and eager

as we knew we both
needed, I thought

we were harmless
and we believed it

we were careless
winded and massless

falling harder
than we wanted

this night
for this time only

you belonged to me
delicate and daring

-B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)

Cup of Sugar

you’re there
with a craving
for the coconut milk
that polishes my skin,
my neck, lavished with lavender
and my honey-lemon stained tongue

with a faint fragrance
of a hard working day
wet bark and grass, earth
cigarette smoke, motor oil and rum
or maybe dry erase, coffee and wood shavings

in any case,
you’re here to stay
with my arms hooked on your shoulders
and your hunger hooked on me, your sweetness,
your warmth when you’ve turned bitter and colder

– B. Brown

(digital sculpture by Kyuin Shim)

My Pardon

I leave

my dark work

to karma,

your blows will

only produce poetry

after I’ve turned

the other cheek,

uplifting me

-B. Brown

(art courtesy of Pinterest, but if anyone knows the artist, please enlightenment me because I love this style)


You Wouldn’t or You Couldn’t – Prose Practice

you were or you weren’t, hoping I was looking for you in him and her,
but one thing’s for certain, you saw more than what you earned
and now there’s another who has me faded, and they’re trusted
to bring me back to myself safely, that’s what you see
standing before you, this is me. they threw away the worn
and tattered pieces and let me freeform, that’s what you feel
beating, this is how love is supposed to be twists and turns,
ups and downs but never extremities to stunt the soul,
you did or didn’t have to see it through me, I am happy
as a reverie, no one told you to come find me


(art by Timothy M. Parker)