By a brook
~Somewhere by a brook~I say. A Freudian slip. You say What? What was that? I say ~Nothing~ but can’t keep a leash on plodding thoughts that say ~Plant a small … Continue Reading By a brook
Archangel
Once, within my hearing, and thinking himself alone, he said I wish I were dead. And I didn’t man up to that. I god damn kept my hands in my … Continue Reading Archangel
In olden times
~I remember me. How I looked to books as if they were to be my next meal. How I bought brushes, special pencils and a book of right paper, still … Continue Reading In olden times
At the beach, in morning fog
At water’s edge I plied the sand for vacant shells and stones to skip, so flat. There, there was a tree that had given up, acute in its angle, embarrassed … Continue Reading At the beach, in morning fog
idleness
A diving moth caught in venetian rays, like a bedside meteor. In soreness of spirit, I chew on thoughts of old romancers, closet dancers.
This feels wrong
A recent change of heart. A looming change of mind. An anxious left-handed day.
By design
What is here,by design,is umbilical to me.This feed of lifeand blood of red.But now,instead,a sorry headthinks of strifeand the future of a knife.
Everything, and the kitchen sink
* Mental health triggers, suicidal ideation* God. You know, I’m just washing dishes, feeling useful and kind of self-satisfied. Haven’t dropped anything or cut myself, even though the bothersome cat … Continue Reading Everything, and the kitchen sink
Someday, your prince will come
I would make you smile but I can’t You want me to smile but I can’t Moods change in increments One step forward two back There’s another can’t- It’s the … Continue Reading Someday, your prince will come
Breakdown
I speak in tonguessometimes.Surely at night,in deep sleep,but now, of late,in broad day. It started with watery voices,the makers of dream.We argued, for sport.But they’re no longer day blind,and I … Continue Reading Breakdown
Shortcuts
Make cuts carefully, in concealable places, so as not to be known as an attention whore. Bundled in fives, as at Shawshank. You and I know that it’s better than … Continue Reading Shortcuts
Foreigners
If you would, talk some sense into me. Or, just talk some sense. I am in short supply, you see. I have broad and muscled shoulders from clenching the etched-in … Continue Reading Foreigners
Quakers
I know why you couldn’t shave anymoreI used to think that you couldbut needed to be touchedI think, now, that something told you“What’s the use?”and you agreedand your hands and … Continue Reading Quakers
Madmen
Pain spreads into virgin veins and newly thought-of branches. An insistent fist, twisted and knuckle-pressed into the backs of us. We have looked, dry-eyed, into the dark drear, contriving a … Continue Reading Madmen
That’s the spirit
There’s no one to adore it. Too hard-shelled and prickly, I guess. Transgressions bought and paid for. Still, there are soft surfaces of want. In the shower, (hotter, hotter), there’s … Continue Reading That’s the spirit
the weight of the world
Just beyond piled-up banks of dirty snow, stick trees, made of disease, voice their last testaments, mournful and forlorn. And so we walk, pushing shins and shoes forward, keeping music’s … Continue Reading the weight of the world
