Tag: Poem

Dry Thirst

Once we were liquid Entangled, wrapped in grasps Scared of the dry sunrise   In that morning I heard the bath water Small splashes…gingerly   The faucet became a trickle, then nothing. I was left with the creaks of the house.   Every now…

Arc Eternal

Arc Eternal 

Emily Dickinson’s Refrigerator

‘Twas the vinegar that tippeth Toward the leftover quiche Oh, lonely empty bottle, recycler boon When sun meets to kiss moon— And mustard, your yellows bold A bit old, but still at play— Mummified lime, plastic lined Awaits blessed water of the fizzy kind—…

Moths Find Daylight

  Click on image to enlarge. Find a book I’m in here. More images to be found here.     

The View

If I hike alone, I can only tell you what you missed. If we hike together, we’ll see the view.   Here, the wind whips beachgrass, stinging our legs through cotton jeans, a grass that rattles its voice, a scolding, chaotic rustle. Our bare…

Gilligan’s Soliloquy

TV or not to TV, that is the question Whether ‘tis nobler for the stomach to suffer The future of outrageous coconut cream pies Or take bad dialogue from character actors And by opposing, end them, and get cancelled after three seasons To flee,…

Orbital

    (Click on image to enlarge) More images found here.

Leaf Finder General

She rakes leaves as if she’s in a battle with fall With those pranksters of maple, oak, alder, and all Who best be off elsewhere, staying clear from her home Or sticking fast by autumn’s mist to the garden gnome Better not sneak under…

T.S. Eliot Bumps Into A Second Person

    The voiceless have built a city within this city, structures embedded within the grid, pulled together by patchwork—cloth, tent, sawdust floor and plastic sheet. You’re there, measuring your life in coffee spoons, on that same street, right next to them. You see…

Woman King

Woman King More images here.

Soundness

He’s moving to a song he knows and it’s a song we’ve heard before but can’t place. As he moves, the sweat, sores, and scratches stay in place. What’s inside him is externalized. He doesn’t care about our inner secrets, our inner fears, our…

A Writer’s Guide To Revision

I peek out from the analog…paper skin, bone and water…hue, saturation…body tweaked with vibrance, a layering of edits, revision…revised with dark lines, shades on skin, adjustments…adhered, affixed. Fixed. My face, my story, a template, structure of desire, rouge of action…series of alignments…light and color,…

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