Was that house one of lies one of alcohol and fear Were there violences muffled by bedroom doors and punishments sealed by closet doors Gone without... gone without Come to me now Lay those ghosts in my hands Let us live for time is so short ~photo by Ben Gingell / Getty images
Around here, we don't hold with sharpened knives. With lit candles or precarious positionings. Life is safe in dullard's walk. Nothing's our fault, and we love the spilt milk lament. Image from The Concordia
Fell thee asleep with the lights left on.Apart, hidden safein plain sight, 'til now. When,by green dawn,the dark birds of your dreamscome home, once more, to roost [Image: J. Heiden Photography]
Available now is my newest collection of poetry. Click here to purchase in eBook or paperback. Well, here we find ourselves again. A place most … Lost in the Hours
A tongue that tastes too wellA throat that thirsts for the whole bath Ears, unstoppered, gate-crashed and ringing,aghast at the brazen yarns Saucer-eyed at the secret shows Heart-throbbed at the wholeness of Om and mute-voiced in prayerful listen [Art by Jamie Heiden]
By coincidence, I saw something you shared. It was a revelation to me, a gut punch. The things we can't know... And I wanted to say something, without being trite or presumptuous. Best, though, to keep mum, I feel. Hold the thing in a back room, but let it live.
~It is so odd. This placement. To be here at this time. In this gang. It's a mistake, I think. Not sanguine to the purpose. They are on their way out. I am meant for beginnings.~ *Art by Cole Rise
You know a Joe. Lots of us do. My Joe, well, he's got it bad. Back in the day, my Joe was kinda livin' the Dream. With a nice young wife, a good job that he liked, and, with it all, a beautiful little daughter growing up fast. A bit too fast. Young, impressionable, sullied... Continue Reading →