Tag Archives: Author

Undertow

A reader dips a hand Into swift water Waiting in initial silence To be taken by the current   An author swims Without life preserver Arms….splashing Yelling towards the shoreline Advertisements

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Unfortunate Cookies

Unfortunate Cookies – Complete With Translation Errors  Something you lost will soon turn up, like your wife. Fame and fortune will soon belong to somebody else. You will be invited to an extremely boring event. The one you love is … Continue reading

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Sweet Weed

  The flesh of my lover’s body Still taut within memory’s touch That distance shaped my femininity Her sweet, sweet, large lips, appeared As a succulent rooted plant Which allowed me into her meadow To traverse the yard, to stretch … Continue reading

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Published

  To Do List: A Poem      

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What Odysseus Hears

  “I have heard this music before, saith the body.” – Mary Oliver What Odysseus Hears This room—is alone— Shattered occasionally By voices, seemingly ethereal Bessie, Nina, and Billie Who settle the walls, solid into a comfort, darkened beauty Yet, … Continue reading

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The Blank Page (Portrait #9)

    Full of space, it invites your wishes to be written down upon it. Then, as soon as you jot or type something within its parameters, it looks back at you and tells you more about what your wishes … Continue reading

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We Are Struck

Time is involved with our embraces As if the length of holding one another Measures the weight of our affection The tightness of our hugs produces passions– Passions filled with a gravity of attraction Not just of Earth and moon, … Continue reading

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The Cat’s Nomenclature

  All throats are coated There is no clear speech It is, a cluttered emptiness Search for words, understood only By mimicry, representation sounded And it seems that voice knows What part of the night To split open wide, with … Continue reading

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Hardboiled Stinks

Don’t let biscuits be hard on you Just give ‘em a little dunk And they’ll soften right up Bacon crumbles under pressure Unless they’re Canadian Then they become really taxing Why does Benedict need a fucking muffin! Who does he … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, The Fashioned Series | Tagged , , , , , , , | 31 Comments

Waking Is Ours

I have entered So many nights With you Entrusted my sleep To your closed eyes Accepted your heat Under shared blankets Buried my head In the pillows of your absence Your scent is mine Waking is ours

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