Poetry
Haiku for a Saturday Morning
yearning toward the sun these plants — too closely, they burn. ah, the unsaid verb.
Wednesday Words – verbs misplaced are poetry
THESE gleeful emotions, sonorous and profound: words words words trippingly tapping my tongue, Lolita – Alone in my apartment forever, full and empty now no words to punish, nor doubt dismember just glee, glee, glee – the delight of rustification and Mephistopheles, the triumph of fidelity and Calaban: a sycophantic hieroglyph indelible, at ease – [...]
Wednesday Words – November
He sits with cigarette smoke and a chill in the air outdoors the graying city, watching her guests take pictures they will use to tell a story about themselves to people he will never meet, and “There is a loneliness to the rehearsal of dreams,” he thinks. Any minute now his life, like pages scattering, [...]
