Forgiven |
There are too many possibilitiesin the moment beforeI am suspendedlateralyetthere is zen in here somewherethe autumn leavesspin haikuacross the blank lawnnostalgia blows inthe ghosts of summer -how d...
Posted by on Tue, 19 May 2009 01:15:00 GMT |
I am a tree in the forest of noise |
I am a tree in the forest of noise this onslaught of soundevery distance too closeyou are wires flailingfingernails into peripheral visionin my head a bus full of passengersbicker over who sits whereI...
Posted by on Thu, 05 Mar 2009 15:06:00 GMT |
The Skin of Summer |
The Skin of Summer IAfter the tipping edgeas summer heat lingersonly in corners and arestless night's humiditythe cicadas are less frivoloushardened now to mortalitythey burst and fade abruptlyin a st...
Posted by on Wed, 04 Mar 2009 16:30:00 GMT |
The Many |
My demographic dwells unseenthe multitude a thick disguisewho will pluck these sour berries?we cannot find our way woven as we are into this tangled meshthe silver-eyes swarm like beesbeaks as sharp ...
Posted by on Wed, 18 Feb 2009 15:28:00 GMT |
The Sound of Goodbye. |
Strange how memory triggers like a cocked gunwhen you thought the safety catch was on.It stands to reason I suppose,since light travels faster than sound,that darkness does too.I am sitting on the ...
Posted by on Sun, 15 Feb 2009 20:01:00 GMT |
The Sound of Goodbye. |
Strange how memory triggers like a cocked gunwhen you thought the safety catch was on.It stands to reason I suppose,since light travels faster than sound,that darkness does too.I am sitting on the be...
Posted by on Sun, 15 Feb 2009 19:56:00 GMT |
Fledgling |
In my open handa featherless birda nestling, naked in carmine filigree beak gaping soundlesslyher throated heartflutters under my skinI cannot return herI cannot release herbelow us broken shellabove...
Posted by on Sat, 14 Feb 2009 14:42:00 GMT |
Four Letters on a Keyboard - a Valentines Day Poem |
I am not one for valentines as suchcommercialism seems to win the dayas lovers spend to verify their loveand those who are forgotten turn away what does it mean and how do we addressthis tenderness o...
Posted by on Thu, 12 Feb 2009 17:13:00 GMT |
A Pound of Flesh |
In the middle of Summerheat penetrates only half-waythe frost in my left sidesinging out it's emptinessthis cleft. a topography that speaks in tonguesthe language of cancerof surgical steelscience ma...
Posted by on Mon, 09 Feb 2009 19:09:00 GMT |
Behind the Retina |
Into the night of blossomswhere moths were ideas we flew luminous hopelike chinese dragonssomewhere there was a moon holding the waters of possibilitythe sea was the night skyplankton bloomed slow cl...
Posted by on Mon, 09 Feb 2009 13:29:00 GMT |
