Whilst I Wait

Expired and lazy hands become more supple, fixed in a sinewy shade…. Unquiet, umbra-earth drones and fondles my darkling hands.

I Dissipate Lightly

It is far, far too likely that having a center isn’t for me. I dissipate lightly, as of noisome gasses loosed from my skin. Did he enter somehow, through some crevice? Had I known, I Continue reading I Dissipate Lightly

Goodnight All

I’ve grown wary of the barely black button. So I’ll make it with circus ties and dry seasons, belly-up lies and carousels. The ministers of fucking aeronautics have declared mistletoe failure, and throughout the workings Continue reading Goodnight All

Preamble to a Reckoning

“By law, we’re all equally entitled to have–and share–our opinions. Quality is rare. Context matters: Who’s speaking, and why.” Who and why… Children of war huddle in wallows, then die: “Who hates us, Mama? But Continue reading Preamble to a Reckoning

What the Nymph Would Have Said to the Woodsman Were She Not Under Water

‘Can watch your hand lilting, It glows yellow and strums the brassy pond– See the confetti canopy that warbles above us in the blue sky? Sky sits scary– Yet you bargain for its radiance, And Continue reading What the Nymph Would Have Said to the Woodsman Were She Not Under Water

The Art Experience: Acquiring Beauty of Mind

Ever wonder what it can be like when writers are critical of themselves? Here’s a demo. –And if you’ve ever had someone respectfully suggest that your poetry may be cryptic, abstruse, and/or incomplete, then maybe Continue reading The Art Experience: Acquiring Beauty of Mind

Skirts of Gossamer Gold

Twirling mystic in skirts of gossamer gold– In the trees— There like sea-weed monster draped through boughs and static-crisp air, Tepid, electric-blue air to drench my tongue, to spark my eyes electric! Oh, like neon-soup Continue reading Skirts of Gossamer Gold

Laslo Dazzles His Mother

Laslo dazzles his mother. At breakfast with the pall bearers, she wore a long, black brocade. Numbly, she twines the purse strap ’round knotted fingers, as once she did the dark, ropy curls of her Continue reading Laslo Dazzles His Mother