idiocy

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A Shine

Transcend with me you fool you flesh and bone I too was a carnivore wet and eager for sinew at the dawn of a century expired at the hands of gusts the sand in my eyes and cradled infants sun-kissed at the mountains that faced west She lowered her head and gaze and i followed…

Metaphor for the Obvious

Say it like it is Say it with words You hear on the street Unnecessary, ornate dressings Overwhelm the marrow Where the butterflies live You can drill a hole To eek the beauty bit by bit But a brute hammer is easier A hammer to shatter yourself To erupt in the tragic Our mundane bleeding…

26

hair-like roots of string they had to lie still, to survive the hope of many trembling in a tempest seen from the high branches little wonders and hops instead of steps cuddle close to huddle in the end a little hide and run for cover eyes green with the currency of time delicate limbs in…

Lonely Great (62818)

The great lonely is a place you rarely hear aboutIt is the emptiness between your heart and ribcageThe stale breath of an aging roomhumming about someone else’s griefjust to feel it on its lipsThe great lonely is a great plain for sage and horseswith no one round for milesA place that does not claim youthat…

The open cave welcomes joy and everything else.

On a Friday full of freedom I sang behind the wheel The black days now behind me I look forward to the miles ahead And as the chorus left my lips and I waved at the sorrowful faces of my neighbors I rolled down the window to bathe in the careless dance of the wind…

91718: to the time I held the guitar for three days when you departed.

I wanted to know why the hands stopped yearning for the strings they were caked bumps and callous patterns not the right kind of progressions not the desired ones yet underneath the stuttering grip and the delicate-less fumble of the fretless here I set beyond the waking hours with the deepest of needs before sunrise…

An American Pastime.

To bury a child is an abomination. To bury the second is unsavory, but familiar. To bury the third is industry. Child burial is a coarse proposition like the rope that lowers the flag When god used to look, his head would lower too. Can the father spare thoughts for the republic, trapped in the…

Dormant

With these eyelids smeared shut I squint to ease the throbbing void and color on the other side I have been gone much too long The people speak as if they swallowed microphones The people ramble as if laundry lists were all the rage Slumber short and sweet Meant to be so good to me…