Category Archives: Poem

On Ragged Mountain

There’s a luxury – a pleasure… not like the joy of an avocado (not to dismiss that joy, sliding along the skin, opening the ripe fruit to eager hands, fingers sliding into flesh to scoop and taste and slip along … Continue reading

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The Answer

There was a wind winding down from star to sea, whipping along eastern ranges, whispering strange words in accented syllables, a Romanian Shakespearean rag, sometimes humming something from The Weekend. Sometimes a muse must be answered. There were scrubs worn … Continue reading

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Wrapping Backwards

Something about losing small pieces – an errant tooth, the color in my hair, the smell of autumn as father held my hand, fading vision / a kidney butchered under failing hands, and time a butterfly flapping backward through time, … Continue reading

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Burning Autumn

In the autumn, with leaves burning, safety as children running embers floating in the air. And I am burning leaves again. The tulips i pulled from your garden how you say me hiding, behind our pine. Eyes wide. Knowing that … Continue reading

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Heisenberg’s Waiting Room

There are moments when you are alone in a place of human geography peopled with many strangers, and every one of them – looking at you in side glances – knows you and your heart And there is no water, … Continue reading

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Dominion

I held your hand as you sighed, chest heaving caving and rising, that old cadence, that old chestnut rag. “God is a bastard, a¬†true SOB,” I told you, patting at the sweat breaking beads on your brow. “Your mother won’t … Continue reading

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Quick Sand

Wallace Stevens quickened at 46. I may yet make order on some beach or another.

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