vespers |
Late at night hereThere is only theSound of metal clipsAgainst a flagpole.The breeze makesThem ting ting tingThat seashore soundWhen the flag is taken down.I've never seen the flagpole.It must be over...
Posted by on Mon, 20 Mar 2006 22:29:00 GMT |
when you're ready to touch me again. |
This piece is influenced by a day's reading of William Carlos Williams and T.S. Elliot (who enjoyed and criticized each other passionately), followed by running into the phrase "when you're ready to t...
Posted by on Mon, 20 Mar 2006 04:52:00 GMT |
one crying in the wilderness.... an urban prophet |
He was sitting on a bench on Chapel Street across from the pizza parlor when I saw him. At first he seemed very much like your run-of-the-mill typical homeless guy; he had a filthy knit cap on, with s...
Posted by on Thu, 16 Mar 2006 09:04:00 GMT |
saints and wires |
We walked these hollowed, hallowed halls,Where the fingerbone rebar skeletonsOnce pushed their slow tips from scaling cement skinsAnd ancient standing pools of rust bled,A slick and sickening stigmata...
Posted by on Thu, 16 Mar 2006 08:58:00 GMT |
hands |
my hands are the simple, fleshy containers of my soul.they are strong hands.seven years of gymnastics-twelve years of drums-six years of piano-hundreds of sketchbooks, notebooks, napkins, coasters, an...
Posted by on Thu, 16 Mar 2006 05:59:00 GMT |
spring |
flaming arrow discussions last night committed unjust obsessions to mental dreamtower days -- misunderstood and overcontrolled -- like wrestling a snake falling off a cliff falling falling -- splat --...
Posted by on Mon, 13 Mar 2006 06:08:00 GMT |
W |
weary, wired, weird,we walk west, weightless.who were we whenwe were watchingwinter's weary wane..?weather's war.whatever wind we worship--we wither.
Posted by on Sun, 12 Mar 2006 01:15:00 GMT |
