Tag: Author

Cold Floor

Cold Floor The dust scurries, moves, hides My fingers take the pulse of linoleum Wax, dirt, desire, finish, surface, sealer, room Remnants of a shine, dried bugs, skeleton specks We were the warmth, the life, the struggle, the stumble Lying there as outlines of… Continue Reading “Cold Floor”

Tectonic Plates

Cathy is in the twilight heat Before the summer night Moves like tectonic plates. She tells me stories Of shooting people in Vietnam During the war   The rifle she used is under her bed. I saw it when she asked me To feed… Continue Reading “Tectonic Plates”

Cape Disappointment

Here, Saddle Mountain from a distance is a few uneven bumps. The jetties appear as pencil marks, drawn outwards towards the sea. The river wants to keep going, to stretch beyond the haze.  A few old growths dot the forest, challenging the wind. They’re… Continue Reading “Cape Disappointment”

The Known

There is this quiet motion When wind brushes trees, Branches bend, a timeless marriage… When there are the smells of summer, Sticky pine and soft cedar… When rivers are a language, Creeping through echoes of green… When shadows move, slow, deliberate Undecided between dream… Continue Reading “The Known”

Flowers And Watchers

The boy picks Wapato in the marsh Just the top stems, not the tubers. He doesn’t see me standing In the mud, watching.   I follow him with quiet eyes Walk through the marsh. As if he’s searching for a vase. There’s a humid… Continue Reading “Flowers And Watchers”

Steps

Winter’s mask, layers upon chaotic earth Underneath is uneven ground As we feel the contours, so near our feet To walk is awareness   Of how we place Our steps   Click on image to enlarge.    

Love Letters

She’s a tangent, planting words in wild rows that release constant seeds, adrift, landing upon her skin, a skin she reads to herself. Her heartbreak, an apocalypse of reincarnations, dust on the floor, dry paper, bits, clumps, wheat lost from the chaff, molded to… Continue Reading “Love Letters”

Bough

  (click on image to enlarge.)        

Shelly

Her makeup was a postmodernist painting, swashes of pinks and blues, wayward paint upon skin. When she put it on, she grinned, but didn’t smile. Inside, her voice was a thunder. Shook things. Came from her bones, resonated outwards, circles, waves. I imagine it’s… Continue Reading “Shelly”

Gerald

He had lost an eye. Though, its orb still in its socket had turned a blurry blue, misty, had developed a different kind of sight. It was a pain experienced through years of looking, looking, searching. A pain no one could comprehend. Not even… Continue Reading “Gerald”

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