I.J. Benjamin Poems

i remember the sixth grade
and my teacher, an old gypsy woman with thick, greasy hair,
she would shout at me with a raspy,
liquor scolded voice,
...

when meaning has faded away
like the dawn resided the day
and you have no sense of purpose
but the loneliness of each second
...

it would just be me
and him
and we would sit on the cold floor of the side walk
and he would draw shapes in the grass with a broken
...

i tell you now,
i'll repeat these words,

be drunk,
...

i left two scars below my feet
and i am reduced to
listening to the wet sand
as the waves lick its wounds
...

Yesterday,
the most beautiful woman in the world
was going to kiss me, except, the second
before our lips touched, i fell apart
...

I was with a girl named Kanalia
with good curves, she explained that it's Hawaiian
and that it means
beauty within a shining star
...

With a bottle in hand
on a park bench, encased by
barbed wire,
not smiling, not frowning,
...

inside the most desolate of mountains,
where nothing is,
a speck of life, exists, breaths and lives,
the little, little hearts of
...

i wonder if i shall ask her
for her heart
with her hand in my
hand,
...