| Date |
Title |
Content |
|
Every early year |
Winter has bared our fears and spring heats... |
|
Damned Dove |
Nothing but empty syllables
exit the... |
|
These Empty, Empty Dunes |
There are no histories of the horses
Drawn... |
|
Hunger - Spoken Tongue |
My father told me
it was about this time
a... |
|
Dragon; and then There's Me. |
All five claws exposed
with wisdom and... |
|
The End of Silence |
It's St. Valentine's Day, and blue of... |
|
Another realm |
She sits, transported to another... |
|
The Promise of Decay |
Groves of emptiness stand there,
between... |
|
Sequence Non-Sequitor |
The life, unwriting, unraveled slowly,... |
|
Joints of Tiny Reed |
One year, after many years of rest
upon... |
|
Away, On A Wave |
It was on the sixth that Britt posted this... |
|
In The News Today I Read |
I sat at the back of the coffee shop,
with... |
|
Bad Angel |
Do you know how many angels you have
to... |
|
Coerced Heathen. |
The angel had fallen, crushing her wings and... |
|
The Chicago Museum of Art - every year. |
Every year from little
to big I felt the... |
|
Ah, for Neptune as my conductor... |
He washes out the sand
from between his... |
|
Eternity of Empty Pages, Filling. |
It's been like this for days,
it's been... |
|
Entirety |
The nothing, the everything.
At night,... |
|
Translucence. |
The painter brushes her hair,
three soft... |
|
Honey water |
Sweety,
There's a time of year for... |
|
All of them. |
There they all are,
and the world
kept... |
|
seaming history |
Some histories
need much... |
|
One world to another. |
Closed, we are all adrip with life,
at one... |
|
The mare: day and night. |
This light, this darkness, this... |
|
Monsoon |
This month of droplets seeps into... |
|
The scream |
Some hide under the table
when others sing... |
|
The Walker |
I walked through the Walker
with my two... |
|
The colors of breath. |
Red and the clouds shine over the... |
|
Ah, the sparkles! |
The glittery electricity you wave from... |
|
Verticality |
Walking through vertical lines,
walking... |
|
Cast thought |
I've been sitting here for ages.
As I grow... |
|
Strange praise |
Oh, they honor me, shovel raised, hand above... |
|
Dangling participles |
A baseball multiplies by the... |
|
Someday |
Late at night, it could be
that the... |
|
This smooth freedom. |
Calcium-rich water soaks her,
brings the... |
|
Goddess of Fear |
There's a softness in her visage
that... |
