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I'm dying but that's not to say what you think it says. I've crossed the river of myself many, many times before and wandered to the shore, broken and drenched and full of the fever of dreams. Each time was a kind of ritual drying of my newly born wings, to…
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26043
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To the hem of Neptune and the soul of brevityand the dialects of drunken monkeys,sands diminish into sands, wavesdie imperceptibly, brace a hibernating time,one of mermaids always seenby the naivete of sailors. This is sea monster metaphysics.The Atlantic increasingly…
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81900
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Sea of indifference
Coming and going
Never committing
Like a fickle lover that erodes a hopeful heart
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420301
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We weren't sleeping much, either one of us. We went through the ritual, Pat and I. I brushed and flossed and got into bed and read while Pat took her contacts out and applied a…
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I had told myself that I would not cry. That I would hold on to my anger so tightly, there would be no space for pity.
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181810
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Jasmine invited herself over and plopped herself on my futon. "Let's fuck," she said, bluntly. "I want to."
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91810
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The cab split the thread of oncoming traffic into water barrels and telephone poles.
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89142
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Seamus’ hands are shaking now
that once were still as stalking cats.
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51800
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Seamus has the palsy now
who once was called another name.
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communication/
with the dead
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84500
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The sun was bright, warm and blew through my hair like the wind.
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Each person in each car could be poetic/
Duende, but they look at each other and ask/“Did you fart?”
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This tall, very fair, very blonde, very female, very feminist friend of mine, with a smile the moon and stars must take lessons from. . . .
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This tall, very blonde, very female, friend of mine. . . .
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15624218
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At the Cimitiere Montparnasse he offers the girl his raincoat. I'm searching for Samuel Beckett, he says, and holds an umbrella over her as she consults her map. We're close, she says, pointing. I'll go with you. Then we can visit Simone de Beauvoir. My name is Scarlet.…
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I separate my thoughts into two / camps
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1. Walking here
with you
on these narrow
strands
of clean air
& imagination
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130174
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They had been wintering on the Cape under gunmetal skies...
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109997
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Just drank / The last of the eggnog
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10231210
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A man of action would take to his rake/
but Sloth would rather watch and wait/
for snow to erase each leaf on leaf.
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“I killed a man.”
“Whaaattt???” I'd been meditating on the sun. I figured he was trying to jolt me awake.
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One of the poems in my collection, One Day Tells its Tale to Another, published December 16, 2012. Available on Amazon. My first book!
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730149
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... and August's drought/
will yellow lawns, singe the shrubs,/
and amplify cicada song.
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1244104
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Jasmine as skeined skins… of liquid hers, by willow courts, the lychee's water wains: as apple-moats flush fawn in russet light, through cherry floats, the leopard-dots of dawn. Branch to branchlet green …
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94852
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Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, the Good Lord made them all.
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He ate husks of bone and old paper scraps with yesterday's headlines, blowing down the street like tumbleweeds now at four o'clock in the morning.He wrapped himself in an old army coat against the November winds as he tramped back and forth, back and forth, up the ten…
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“Just how many different bipeds try to hide their nakedness?” “Only one. And that'd be us, idiot.”, Twinkle responded. “Then, why don't we mind showing certain parts of our bodies?”, she then asked. Twinkle could see it was going to be…
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He arrives at the appointed hour, driving up the dusty road in his '68 Ford truck. On the side is stenciled “Sampson's Farrier Service.” He parks in front of the barn. Patience watches from the front porch, where she has just set down a…
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B developed a thick emulsion that he paints onto the pieces of meat on which he prints photographs.
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