In the aquarium blue glass indirect views in direct sunlight I sat with beasts much smaller than I.
Poem from Prompt #16.
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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 followedContinue reading “A Shine”
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 bleedingContinue reading “Metaphor for the Obvious”
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 inContinue reading “26”
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 youthatContinue reading “Lonely Great (62818)”
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 windContinue reading “The open cave welcomes joy and everything else.”
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 sunriseContinue reading “91718: to the time I held the guitar for three days when you departed.”
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 theContinue reading “An American Pastime.”