canteen. |
this collection that i hold in my handcigarette butts and wings on my backbroken promises, angry argumentsi keep their ashes in an urnThe drive back about an hour before dawnyellow tape surrounds the ...
Posted by on Mon, 20 Apr 2009 20:27:00 GMT |
our forked tongue, our crooked heart |
a good friend once told methat if you can tie a cherry stem into a knotthen you must begood with your tonguebut i submit that the dexterity of your tongue depends on thisare your words more delicate t...
Posted by on Sun, 15 Feb 2009 12:48:00 GMT |
meditations on prayer and seasons |
this tree's blossoms are witheringlordor maybe it's just the winteri hope, i pray the fall has not comeand i a seed on sandy rocky groundthese planted thingsi've worked so hard to make them showy and ...
Posted by on Fri, 16 Jan 2009 00:06:00 GMT |
a simple stance on cultural laziness |
God is supposed to be all-powerful the church is supposed to be real community christian fellowship is supposed to be genuine and liberated and vulnerable and uncensored Jesus was supposed to set us ...
Posted by on Wed, 27 Feb 2008 22:30:00 GMT |
a short goodbye to innocence |
my my, old friendwe've come a long way from the garden nowmy breath carrying the stench of fresh lies beads of sweat falling from my face meeting their fate on the groundtell m...
Posted by on Sun, 05 Aug 2007 20:42:00 GMT |
an ignoble exchange |
a lowly, dim light burns in the belfrybut the candle is burning from both endsthe wax fearing the flame and jumping from it's all too comfortable perchacting as snakes at heart in the midst of roa...
Posted by on Thu, 31 May 2007 08:10:00 GMT |
am I not now less wretched |
"A funny thing happened on the way..."After I'd climbed out of the hole I dug for myselfI fell into another made by the candle in the icingfinding that i had leapt from the frying pan and into desirea...
Posted by on Fri, 16 Dec 2005 16:22:00 GMT |
the way of the sea |
O, i've been so alone for O, so longhow i miss the casual conversationsecluding myself to this captain's chairwhen the helm isnt even in my handsO, captain my greedy selfish captainwho have you become...
Posted by on Fri, 28 Jul 2006 23:49:00 GMT |
hell |
"hell"Ive not written poetry, Ive just found a soap box to stand onIve not founded beauty, Ive written a tired old songIve not had any revelation; I want people to feel good insideIve not received an ...
Posted by on Tue, 16 May 2006 15:57:00 GMT |
