poetry

Packing my bags

An apprehensionof not knowing the next move An assumed wordleft outthat should have been there The world goes cartoonish Walk with mefor I may not know the way Talk with mefor I know not what to say Do not trust meanymorefor I am poor and I watch a different show

More

Night shift

This is wee, the hour. I play coy with sleep, thinking that if I ignore it and feign that I am fighting it, it will engulf me out of spite. But no. Its navigator plies me with pages from afternoon fades, jukes in studied loops. Sheep have gone out of style, I think.

More

Sky pilot

Lay prone in the hammock of home. No drink, no smoke, no drug. Let the blue loom of the sky seep its dye, so sterile, so dope. Great is its storied fresco. Rest easy that it waits for you.

More

Grown up

Kid I was when Dad got my nose showed how to take your thumb apart Oh, and the trick with the hats and cigarette butts How to worm a hook Bought a poetry book Must’ve seen my look Told me I must be a man Face the bullies Have a plan Double up that fist […]

More

Dust bunnies

Taken-the combings of years,of minutes and seconds.Sift and sieve,this sultry eve.What’s fallen,plasmic,into dream hands,begs of wonder,of worship,and tastesof regret and forgiveness.

More

Be my Witch

You must be my Witch In the day, you are as plain as day I think you don’t see me Maybe you think I don’t see you but I am good at eyes Always in your greys and tans and flats Shiny swinging hair Bottle goggles to discourage the shallow You glow from the feathers […]

More

Dirty birds

Down here, tonight, on the green ground, it’s quiet and still, vacuumed. I look up, by chance, to test for rain. The darkening clouds sail, like a float of smoke. A diamond of dirty gulls rides the breeze, like flying M’s, and I fancy I feel feather fluff and whoosh of wings

More