- Poetry: Pencil & paper
- Poetry: Inspired by Jack Prelutsky
- Poetry: The right word
- Poetry: Inspired by Pablo Neruda
- Poetry: Inspired by Langston Hughes
- Poetry: Inspired by Billy Collins
- Poetry: Inspired by Sylvia Plath
- Poetry: Inspired by E. E. Cummings
- Poetry: I am a poet
- Poetry: A poem in my pocket
Moon hangs in the winter sky. Breath crystallizes and falls. I can still see branches of wood like stick fingers Through the clear ice. It is so cold the the trees weep and The roof cries tears of ice. More.. Like the swallows returning to Capistrano So too do my Spring allergies return to me again Each year, like annoying friends who think you miss them. As the sap rises and the flowers bloom I sneeze and my nose runs. As the breezes blow gentle and warm, My allergies begin to swarm. Like fattening food or sex with an intern, Ho… More.. It is Spring And the whole world is petal wonderful. Bright petals Pink as flesh Thick as snow Sharp and fringed at the edges And pink to the point of madness An old man in an arbor growing hope Andcherriesandapples. She was tiny and running and Dark to the point of Africa And she pointed to the tree with a pudgy finger And … More.. On the Occasion of the 31st Suicide Somewhere past the 57th floor he must of realized that he’d made a mistake. It was not like a single petal Of a Haiku Flower of Youth. It was a like a stone Reaching terminal velocity. The scream pulled from his lungs As his body finally realized That his mind was bat crap crazy And he sto… More.. I am a poet When a series of deadly earthquakes struck around the planet, I was frustrated until I could think of a poem to write about it: And the world shook And the earth rang like a bell And the pealing bell took its toll In cities camped ’round the ring of fire. Like a terrier with a rat in its mouth, Or a killer … More.. There are orgasms-the little death There is “mordita”-the little bite Or asthma-the little breath Or a love spat-the little fight. There is insomnia-too little sleep And that binding-the little feet There is string theory-a little deep And right wing radio-a little … More.. Blank Page Beckoned, As though by a naughty lover. Called, As though by Saints for evening vespers. Forced, As though Shanghaied by blood thirsty pirates reeking of rum. Removing my clothes and striding boldly on to the stage, As though slipping into a steamy shower with a foggy mirror. Being naked with out being rude, Being… More.. The smooth, cool caress of burnished aluminum? No, the right words could never come from such a sterile place. Tumbled out of some place black and humid. Ripped out of the heart of something warm. Sucking on the black asphalt an errant whitewall drives its owner over the line of death and madness. Sometimes the right words d… More.. When memories in the shape of leaves fell from the tree tops, they were tinged with remembered fire. It was pleasant at first. So many trees. So many leaves. So many memories. So much fire. You could look about and see cool autumnal fires glowing in green lawns. But at the first frost, the trees grew naked, and the fire leav… More.. He had a speech impediment that caused him to slur some of his words. Such slurring might seem cute when it’s Johnny Depp playing pirate but it is not so lovely when you think you might be talking to a drunk, homeless man. The only reason I listened to him at all, the first time was that my car was in the shop for a week and… More.. A poem in my pocket I dropped my carefully shuffled 3×5 index cards to the floor, And wondered if my poetic musings weren’t better off that way. Now randomized by some errant hand. I picked up a card and remembered that when I was in a lobby for a job interview I saw…”leaves ascended like ragged butterflies dyin… More.. In the Silence between the Thunders, the world is Rain. All natures applauds and there is a great roar as the crowd is brought to its feet. And the approbation gets so hard, and high that the roof is hard pressed to ward it off. But at long last, clapping becomes dripping. A shower becomes a drizzle. And the rivers, as thoug… More.. I wrote a mirror full of lies, and used it for my soul’s disguise. I hid from toothy predators and even ruthless creditors. I smote a mirror full of lies and broke apart my soul’s disguise. And when at last the pain relented, my breath returned, my passion vented. I made myself a man again. I was a piss poor mannequin. More.. “It’s the only true miracle in the history of the world,” my brother said in offhandedly. Just this once, he knew what he was talking about. It was a miracle. Everyone said so. Every amputee on Earth had, over night grown new, usable limbs. Most people agreed that it was a miracle and most people were preparing for the Messi… More.. “But what was the big deal about building a church?” She asked. It was then that I knew that certain concepts were likely to be lost in translation. She was from North Korea. I was born in Mobile, Alabama. I had recommended “Lilies of the Field” starring Sidney Poitier as a good movie. It never occurred to me that anyone wou… More.. You are soft, and so we slowly press your face down into the paper, pressing until you relent and bleed a little on the page. You are smooth and so after we begin drawing your blood the flow is even and we glide across the page on your essence. But I digress, that was a pen, a nib, the least feather of a plumed serpent. A pe… More.. When I was young I traveled the land and did high tech contract work. The jobs paid well and I did not have to be particularly careful about credit or expenditures. In each place I would set up shop in an inexpensive apartment and buy cheap furniture. When it was time to leave to go to a new city and get a new job I would gi… More..Chasing a Cyber Rainbow down a Rabbit Whole Recent articles
- Poetry: Pencil & paper
- Poetry: Inspired by Jack Prelutsky
- Poetry: The right word
- Poetry: Inspired by Pablo Neruda
- Poetry: Inspired by Langston Hughes
- Poetry: Inspired by Billy Collins
- Poetry: Inspired by Sylvia Plath
- Poetry: Inspired by E. E. Cummings
- Poetry: I am a poet
- Poetry: A poem in my pocket
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