An English major at the University of North Texas in Denton. Trevor previously attended Southeastern Oaklahoma State University in Durant. He says, “I always thought I had an ear and a heart for poetry, but thanks to professor Randy Prus, I developed the honesty and dedication it takes to become a poet. I really owe him a lot.”
Check out this piece…
Cemetery Season
we rode out like two
amid decay and deformity
set abreast upon the life
we once called love and home
ran to the steps of dead religion
and entered without holy water
attendance placed us at a previously reserved setting
made for two
-this is the place i can not call home-
attendees made of lace and starch
all believe to be individually whole,
but i could see right through them
to you;
not Love, but love.
they wear their jewelry at dinner table
as they pass more wine
and i listen as my secrets are served raw to the orchestra.
you and i are grown upon
by the weeds of deception
they leave their edicts strewn
amid our garden
the tulips and the marigolds
shall never prosper
in this usury
nor pisces
nor leo
nor porcelina.
near the wise oak
the well rode two
danced the minuet under a sophoclean moon
but the wise oak never spoke
only lifting her skin
to medicate melanomas
in the land of soft deceit
withered faces trust labia intrusions
hearts that lie
made of hearts that lay
with every flower but Love.
must life progress in their pangea of nothingness?
in the home
by the cut stone
near our garden
where under our feet
the lizards have flown…
and under our feet
the place we can not call home.
Trevor