| Date |
Title |
Content |
|
I1 |
I hear the tap tap tapping song
I fold slow... |
|
I |
I believe rain is tapping at my... |
|
@deathamosaic |
In dreams the spectacular end
came swift... |
|
Desolving into Salt |
To sleep is impossible. Behind my eyes is... |
|
Brothers |
I laid there waiting for the sponge to... |
|
the apple of your eye |
You look so pleased with yourself changing... |
|
with a cigar comes sake |
the dark shallows raked by iron claw... |
|
Soft grey afternoon |
within the light of the fish market
ice... |
|
beneath the stars is sleep |
between towns
my father stacks wood in... |
|
between towns |
between towns
the ditches full of late... |
|
henceforth ye gallant oarsman |
Friends sometimes speak lovingly of... |
|
x |
the sun shown into flame
from which chains... |
|
Seeds |
seeds gather to make many. the drought,... |
|
£ |
a storm of birds wrests
free from the soft... |
|
the Colour of rust |
the arch of your lips
lined by moss
the... |
|
the ropes of dreams |
the angular ropes of dreams
tie themselves... |
|
During a Summer of Calm |
Young Spartans; your mothers milk still wet... |
|
A summer squal |
le provocateur de la chanson moineaux pose... |
|
campfire songs |
i stepped into the flame
without... |
|
by night the gulls howl |
there is expression in the way
water... |
|
afloat in espionage |
beyond the drift of water
the unsettled... |
|
this morning; a new season |
a ballast of French bourbons
lay beyond the... |
|
where the weary rest |
the embrace of iron
seals the present into... |
|
` |
amulets hang from
the edge of fruit, soft... |
|
Fell |
never before was she so beautiful
as she... |
|
A Cafe in Venice |
Oh poor mediary
do you grow... |
|
untied |
I do not care for your beauty
any more... |
|
looking beyond up |
sitting with you now at the end of a... |
|
There seems to be an absence of language and images |
So truly a delirious time as this snow... |
|
Not once removed |
My father was brazenly handsome.
Eyes of... |
|
Read |
she said she waits for
the stage to become... |
|
~ |
you are like wax
dripping from the... |
|
In evening things grow silent |
come sit with me in this quiet bath
let... |
|
High |
she is wearing thin
the bristles of her... |
|
Red Hair |
her words are justly ripe
achingly... |
|
at dawn the rose |
she doesn’t resemble the woman who rose... |
|
Something from nothing |
clothed in your temperate womb
the lines of... |
|
Blood and Stone |
tendrilous smoke
birthed by saltwater... |
|
machine threw a rod |
the hours drag across my skin
chiming with... |
|
Black Bitch |
I lay in the
drunken scent
of your... |
|
@ |
Thanks Guy!
You are the rock that makes... |
|
_ |
It was not the wave of your hair or your... |
|
^ |
Chuck you enjoy being a fucking... |
|
:D |
Their colony of love
began with eyes... |
|
|
it all seems so frivolous
you and I and red... |
|
. |
a face caught by the camera by the
holders... |
|
:p |
feeling you fold between my lips
teeth... |
|
= |
the blade warm in my hand skids from elbow... |
|
- |
his hands fold loose young color of... |
|
/ |
farm girls dig the dirt
beneath their... |
|
; |
The syrup of our lives
lays in meal in... |
|
=> )))) => (00) =>::::::===>*<^>*+++<<<---=>>> )))) => (oo) |
theres a wasp in your whiskey
cooed her... |
|
` |
across even an
ocean, there is noise... |
|
<> |
she screamed into the face
of the... |
|
^ |
I am my own Devil
in the darkness when I... |
|
~ |
earlier now it seems to be... |
|
# |
sleep found me when I
wasn't looking up at... |
|
@ |
I don’t know the man in the picture
he... |
|
$ |
It's alright baby,
I'm laying in my own... |
|
& |
Joy is in hope
is in disappointment
is in... |
|
I'm tired of titles |
Know Thy Enemy:
He who has soft hands of... |
|
Rain on 7th Street |
balancing
under an umbrella
we kiss... |
|
A |
She bathes in the dark,
blowing out candles... |
|
Country Time |
after the drum circle has broken
I like to... |
|
i didnt intend for this to happen |
im tired of searching for you (balance)
i... |
|
38 minutes |
The pout of my lips; curved, moist,
fuller... |
|
Cannons at Dawn |
cannon balls break against the hulls of our... |
|
Geometrica |
your eyes
are whispers
behind... |
|
Thinking Without Sleep |
my body
seems to think
I am being too... |
|
. |
We dig the rocks from the raw earth
hoping... |
|
. |
seed given a place
to root, bears as much... |
|
Garden by Candlelight |
She lays poised at my lips
expectant –... |
|
Stairs Are Steep |
Weeds became border
Tall as ferns
Joining... |
|
Pagan Tears |
The clouds were not iron
as you... |
|
Lana Gentry |
Her hair was a brush painting her... |
|
Of air and water |
Fallen too the waves
My temples so utterly... |
|
Her Constellation |
The rosary lay crooked
in her hand, elastic... |
|
Last Call |
I wish all of you the very best. I have... |
|
within a quiet room |
Must it be a poem
that feels the warmth of... |
|
Summer Plays |
a blinking eye
flips shadows into... |
|
10:43 and counting: A mood as blind as you might really be |
Fishing the ring through my eyebrow
I... |
|
Remembering isn't what it used to be |
(I posted the poem above from memory. See... |
|
along the way |
spring song held in mouth
the journey;... |
|
Life's a one way road |
harvest my tears
save them until I
fall... |
|
six months later |
sitting at the edge of the bed
searching... |
|
As I lay Beside you |
Lying beside you,
I search the silence
for... |
|
Beautiful in Shadow (redux) |
Smoke curls around unsteady feet
from the... |
|
love, lust and the joy of fumbling |
What are you doing?
I’m trying to... |
|
Your Breath Is the Only Sound |
smoke is still curling around their... |
|
beautiful in shadow |
brutish hand at her back
flattening fingers... |
|
Wouldn't I Love The Country Life |
We have heard the tales of fathers
walking... |
|
On a Roll |
A new place to meet
To discuss and level... |
|
we should know better |
we should all do well to forget
that we are... |
|
quiet life |
beyond pale stream small
leaf floating,... |
|
You Thought Hal Was Your Friend |
palm fronds blistered white
a cradle... |
|
Through a Window, What I See |
it doesn’t matter if the window is... |
|
Whole lotta B.S., YES |
did you know we criss cross over infinite... |
|
Celestial Trundlings of the Upper Midwest |
Creased and faded petals
held in a clenched... |
|
The Lion and the Lamb, A Cautionary Tale (redux) |
Gather round me now children,
for I have a... |
|
The Lion and the Lamb, A Cautionary Tale |
Lend me your hand child,
I am but not a... |
|
Scarecrow |
The sky was a faraway crimson,
almost... |
|
Driving Home |
The spruce has overgrown into an unsightly... |
|
Reflection (reworked) |
Words tripped from my lips,
fluttered into... |
|
Reflection |
The words dripped from my lips,
fluttered... |
|
Ineffable |
crystalline souls raze
autumn’s tears, hand... |
|
When The Fires Came |
I struggle to undress these words; my sweet... |
|
Over With Beer |
What began with wine went to fire
Until the... |
|
Gone Daddy, Gone |
This bitter air stirs echoes of promises... |
