On Trains |
The pearly nest
Warm furl of beginning breaths
Tiny home of first thoughts
Swelling with the sounds from beyond.
Train speaks in the distance
Some seventeen city blocks away
Just one true voi...
Posted by on Tue, 30 Sep 2008 08:01:00 GMT |
Habitual Creature |
Same mountains call.
Same old mountains from my
many falls.
Once from atop the water tower
I slid silver hands into my pockets
to weight me down,
then leapt
from the open bells,
just at ...
Posted by on Thu, 07 Aug 2008 02:49:00 GMT |
"For the man in the dark" 01/31/07 |
Why do you stare at me cigarette man?
Pacing the sidewalk with a lazy slant
showcase of patterns
in an empty man
waiting to meet my chance of a gaze.
What do your feet say as they scrape on the stree...
Posted by on Tue, 10 Jun 2008 13:05:00 GMT |
precipitation |
tiny drops
wet bright jacket
sticks to exposed knees
dripping past my many shields
down the leg,
between my feet.
silent lake makes new chatter
to these beads,
speckling reflections
spelling s...
Posted by on Tue, 10 Jun 2008 01:13:00 GMT |
Chamber Maze |
There-may i show you?open your palm and Press against the window.
&n...
Posted by on Thu, 31 Jan 2008 14:22:00 GMT |
Strange Leave-taking |
I worked in my city some time ago
a painter,
not an actress.
Through day
and darkness
secretly sketching charcoal
mixing the perfect pigments,
some indigo and ebony,
caressing the gesso
til ...
Posted by on Tue, 15 Jan 2008 07:36:00 GMT |
Hot Snow |
Too much white today.
I can barely make out footprints
car tracks
trees.
There will be no getting out this time,
white wind dancing
with her wild hair
lets out the anger,
picks up her...
Posted by on Sun, 06 Jan 2008 14:38:00 GMT |
Lost Child |
Stuck in a field
waiting for the spring to come,
frost still sticks
and the wind, it blows my cheeks numb.
I think a lot about who I was
now the woman that I've become,
gotta wait for the spri...
Posted by on Fri, 04 Jan 2008 14:15:00 GMT |
Prophecy |
I have been walking lately
Chewing on my maws
Grinding down and pasting thin
This thing I know&
Stare out into the valleys.
If every blade of grass were stagnant,
Would it seem as green?
Woul...
Posted by on Mon, 03 Dec 2007 22:20:00 GMT |
scene |
you
written for the stage of
skin
wood
sweat
a language for the flesh.
our shadows cast
grip and thrash
in demon spirit bodies
plump laughs
pallid sighs
this place to scratch
with grubby nails
the ...
Posted by on Fri, 09 Nov 2007 01:36:00 GMT |
