December 16, 2013
freckled daisy

she – my moon-marred nocturne
indentations on the insides of her mouth
hands pressed pink

I do not wish to smooth the wrinkles
only to curl up inside her laugh lines
pluck the mark below her lip
keep it inside my kiss

grab for her loosely
volcanic ash 
set still but not stagnant  

there is a sadness there
it could consume me

October 13, 2013
probably the saddest poem I have ever written

probably the saddest poem I have ever written

October 10, 2013
6 word story

your love will come too late

October 5, 2013

spazerac said: Hello ! (✿◠‿◠) Once you get this you must share five random facts about yourself then pass this on to your 10 favorite followers.

but Kelsi… fine

1. I am a certified deep-sea scuba diver and have swam with sharks (unintentionally) twice.

2. I can’t remember anything before I was 12 except that I used to have this reoccurring dream about being an old man at his own funeral and that when I was 6 I wanted to change my middle name to “Thumper” because of Bambi.

3.  I have an English degree and have never read Beowulf or most of Shakespeare’s works (just Hamlet, Macbeth and his sonnets).

4. Blackberries are my favorite.

5. If I could be anything I would want to be a marine biologist and study the deep-sea or a race car driver. 

September 14, 2013
Thistle Magazine, The OBSESSION Issue



It’s here! Thistle’s Fall/Obsession issue is ready & waiting for you on Magcloud!

Oh my word, it’s here!! The lovely Thistle magazine is all ready with its Fall issue for you to read. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed making it. (The digital copy is free, free, free!!)

I’m in this! 

August 30, 2013

Desireé DallagiacomoPhoto by Kija LucasNew Orleans, LA

I know her!


Desireé Dallagiacomo
Photo by Kija Lucas
New Orleans, LA

I know her!

August 5, 2013
The glass eye swells; I am The Nocturne

The first of many trains, all the goings and goings and goings - your rumpled white shirt, tucked in, wearing polarized lenses even though the only light is neon. A lady asks for a cigarette with her breasts and we walk the labyrinth to your apartment. You tell me I am a city girl - that I could be - that I want to be. It feels like you pet my hair and hold my shoulders, pinching the bones with your thumbs, measuring, giving me your words by the bale-full.

On your stair-less fire escape there is geometrical deadness and metal like the kind wrapped around my fingers. Your across-the-way neighbor yells hello with her bare breasts. You think she speaks Portuguese. She is French. She has sex for money, she tells us so when we are drinking at the bar you gave a name to. I drink from her straw, thinking it would be elegant to touch the lips of Sabrina for free, a sort of thievery. She thinks you are my lover and there is a weightiness there in her words that sounds like spare sorrow and I think Sabrina is also a psychic and that’s what she meant to say instead.

It is I that fills you in the hot breath of the city and it feels like stagnancy. I feel stillborn and blue. You tell me that I have always wondered – that I have been waiting and I wish I’d been born with more arms, arachnidan. Swallowing you back. No one sees us naked on the fire escape in the city-shade of un-darkness. My breasts say I am sorry over and over, but not to you, maybe to Sabrina and I hope she is looking out her dark window, but we both know she is busy getting paid. 

April 21, 2013

we were sitting in your bathtub

fully clothed

navy hoodies pulled up over our heads


the wonky-eyed face of the faucet

judging us

the shampoo bottles

listening closely


the water glass was too big in my hands

I could fill the whole tub in one swallow.

It wasn’t so big in yours.

April 21, 2013

in the bathtub fully clothed

everything is funny

you are a man

i am a girl


i wonder which eye you are looking through.


you can look in the mirror.

i cannot. 

April 21, 2013

in the bathtub fully clothed

your shower curtain torn

I am all knees

the walls

somewhere between red and orange.


my finger has stopped bleeding

but I can feel the moving gap of a palm sliced open.

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