Tag Archives: poetry

a mind, bound

you did not kiss her when you touched her the last time, your entry lacked finesse – was more like your marriage, cold, hard, familiar inevitable, regrettable but… you held her, wrists above her head, hips cracking manic hard bound … Continue reading

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Eye Gaze Cannot Ignore (Arrows)

hell beach i am going to I am going beach to (you without)gathering seashells ‘n (wind sea chuckles) >>>this is where you are looking, not right, up to where i found the right spot for your eyeballs [icon insert here(?) … Continue reading

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Just Some Time

Just some dumb counter encounter, me and my old doppelganger, dusty old man, wry eyed in the mirror, wishing the kale juice¬†was something higher test. Gotta flush those toxins, baby, gotta pretend the last decade didn’t happen. There’s that kid, … Continue reading

Posted in Age, Aging, Creative Writing, Poem, poetry | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Lost Maps

…as a child, the sun on my cheeks, warm grass under bare feet, running up green, undulating hills, rolling down their far sides. Our laughter. Blue sky, wheeling birds, puffs of clouds, cotton wisps, kite scudding below. Thinking “This. This, … Continue reading

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Russia Idyll

A Russian summer, nostalgic and dreamy, textured and spare, Bunin’s landscape and lovers under the sun, in sunflower fields, awaiting inevitable snow… awaiting, perhaps, the exile’s return from Paris, from Nobel, like Gorky, poor Gorky, the dead son, the shuttered … Continue reading

Posted in Creative Writing, Poem, poetry, Russia | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Eh…

These things I warrant, and see, these ghosts, aspirations and hopes these fading things. My eyes, in a cracked mirror. This ghost, clattering… I talk so fucking fast. A poet of listicles. Shallower than Plath. No clue where my inner … Continue reading

Posted in Creative Writing, Midlife, Poem, poetry | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

Yule

Maybe it’s the weather, or the throbbing of the spine – of rupturing disks, with stairs to climb the stupid hobbling, bent and twisting… The mirror’s face, cracked and drying, grey… once bright blue eyes fading, a gunslinger’s fate. Maybe … Continue reading

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