Category Archives: Poetry

I closed my eyes this morning as I strolled, and sought to sense surroundings without sight. The air upon my chin was clean and cold. The chirps of birds were speckles on the white of 8 a.m., and humming undertones … Continue reading →

The seconds mount to minutes grow to hours, and add to days and weeks and months and years. No creatures of this planet have the powers to alter time’s progression. Petty fears and grand ambitions neither speed our clocks nor … Continue reading →

I couldn’t use my nose to breathe last night. I closed my mouth and didn’t get the air it takes to talk or chew or drink. I might have borne it better if it weren’t rare for this big nose … Continue reading →

Your smile makes some wrinkles, but your frown engraves you ugly. Horizontal lines can be accepted; it’s the up and down that carves a witch. We recognize the signs of bitterness, perpetual complaint, and self-directed needy attitude. Your scowl drags … Continue reading →

I’m listening as silently to me as possible. I’m mutely moving now, awaiting hunger’s neat necessity, fatigue’s demand against my furrowed brow, a healing palm upon me calm and clean. My appetites misfire blanks in kind and I’ve no clue … Continue reading →

A vacant lot with shards of bottle glass appears below the train a brilliant field of sunlit gems, although you know an ass- hole did it, drunk & thirsty, muck-congealed. A mushroom cloud, a tidal wave, a storm of any … Continue reading →

As irresistible as comfort food and almost as compelling as a shit, I had to ride my bike today. The mood attacked at 8 a.m. I felt the fit right after reading; restless vigor jarred me from my coffee, made … Continue reading →

A novel theme of nothingness I write. A journey into zero is my goal. I’ll tell a hundred stories to invite your mind, inspire you, embrace your soul in legend arms to whirl you in the dance demanded by the … Continue reading →

It seems some rabid fundamentalist attempted to redecorate my trunk by prying off the ambulating fish that names the Beagle’s passenger. To junk my gentle symbol was a zealot’s aim, but unsuccess was his ambition’s lot. He popped the back … Continue reading →