Unfinished Poem
September 2, 2017
A fragile fire flickers In my breast, locked Behind bars of pasty bone. The cracked, red coals sputter And the flames lick lower, As they spit Steam and smoke.
Tag: poetry
A Letter From Defeat
January 4, 2017
Defeat handed me A letter; corners neat, Skin pale, body Trim. On the back, A seal with the letters FU Pressed hard In black wax. On the front, My name, dead Center. No loops, no frills, No flourishes. Just cold, Black type. I threw the letter On a fire and delighted In its crackle.
The Sun Dance
August 1, 2016
In the great blue commons, Under the watch Of wind and white giants, The sun dances Merry and drunk. A flourish in the brine And a waver In the tumult. Its toes dawdle Against the beat Of a long sung melody. The gulls bay While the sun drums on And clams bury their heads In … More The Sun Dance
I Belong
May 24, 2016
I sit under the eyes Of striped birch trees Whose roots raise the earth Around me like a mossy bed. The grass prickles The bristles along my skin, And the ants march Over me as though Right there, In the damp, musty soil, I belong. Yet, the sun drips down The cloudy blue walls And … More I Belong
Mine is the Fairest
May 4, 2016
All the bards before me Wove words into phrases Embroidered gold With wit and romance. Their brazen basses And tenors tuned To tingle and quiver All the fibers Of the hearts Of their lovers. “Mine is the fairest.” So say they all. “Her eyes are down. Her lips are liquor And I’m drunk, And I’ll … More Mine is the Fairest
My Fingers Sleep Alone
May 3, 2016
The calloused tips Of my fingers Have collapsed into a numb Sleep after years crumpled Into a fist. Cold As the bones beneath, They fumble Like a child blind In the dark, Reaching for a familiar touch. They find Nothing. Senseless, Even to each other, They shiver In a row In the sun. The pen … More My Fingers Sleep Alone
Thieves in the Dawn
May 2, 2016
Thieves lurk in the dawn Plucking stars From the faded blackness. Grins bloom Along their wormy lips And their nails glow With the dust Of the heavens. Pockets full of crystal light, They slink back to their burrows Before day can catch Them in the act. And they rest Without sleep Too eager To see … More Thieves in the Dawn
Over Wispy, White Fields
April 5, 2016
Over wispy, white fields And cracked clay, He dragged his torn Leather boots and the lump That slumps in his gut Where no light Will ever see. With that Burden, that Bolder, that Heap of shredded bones, He let slip The rocky dust Of the road down Under his sole. Step after step He stepped, … More Over Wispy, White Fields
He Who Wanders 