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To This
Sometimes the thing is to keep the worth to stave-away, flaunted, and to kind what is uncertain. Sometimes the nave of a barrier is wrapped in story; the vice of what seems innocent is easily...
View ArticleThis is a Tale of a Two-Horse Town
It isn’t a myth. All stories are based in truth, so I’m gonna tell you. There were two horses: Carl and Hans. Carl came from the air. No one knew his whereabouts; no one cared. He was a good horse....
View ArticleDraper and the Jewess
You’ll like this poem, because you should. Because we all fight for the underdog. It has a nice ring to it, jewess. Draper invents their dichotomy, but I, I imagine their kiss is sweet, like an...
View ArticleBefore You Know
I am told and I like being told some things –especially when the wandering steals over me as a hand. I want to say that it is precious, but it is scarfed around the crux. This is a battle with the...
View ArticlePoem in Which the I is Silent
“The love of endings is a love of form. It is a tributary. [ I will lead you down the river of this] It is triumphant, even. Challenging and channeling; measuring the riff. The world hurts. The...
View ArticleLove-Sweeted
I’ll try and play along; any word would not be able to be enabled into a good way of handling. If a brass tendered; or a brass-membered a message changed in coloring, I’d discuss it here. I...
View ArticleThe Times
When Don puts on the Revolver LP it is like I’m back in my childhood bedroom asserting that it is not the 1990’s. When the Beatles terrorize his penthouse apartment, I wish I could sit on his lap and...
View ArticleA Page Turns
“Oh, you would’ve liked a better ending!” she exclaims. “That’s too bad. Next time, show up to the right story.” She opens her heart and says, “Hmm, let’s see what is given to me today...
View ArticleThe Greatest
The greatest harvest has been tucked in, buried. Some would say marooned, gathering toward ambition. Is it a weak purpose, or a somehow lodging of a brief changing world? The greatest harvest of my...
View ArticleNational Poetry Month: Poem 4
Don’t Tell Them You’re Not the Center of the Universe I am humble. I am the gold-standard of pleasing. I am monumental and un-sabotaged. My sweet defies the vinegar days and the bleached-out nights. I...
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