Category: poet
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Poem 8
what would a lion write of the hunter?what story would he tell – being hunted, didhe lead the hunter away from his pride?did he sacrifice himself to save his bride?what final thought went through his heart and head?did he think himself brave or the cowardas he fled from the realizationof a predator’s predator, his ownpredation…
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poem 5
searching for a couplet in the dim din of my mindjust a muddle and chaos do I find:too little sleep, too much worry, it alladds up to knock you down – a working stifffinds little peace throughout the week. you fallinto exhaustion’s ruts and wonder ifthe whole damn shitshow isn’t some viciouslie, some trick –…
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Poem 3: Prognosis
grieving from the prognosistrying to rest a moment(recovery is not yet possible)“Lay your head on my chest,”my darling wife invites.I do.“Sorry,” she whispers, “time andgravity have pulled my pillowsinto my armpits.”(humor always our drug of choice)“It’s okay,” I murmur, dimly amused in the darkness of grief.I don’t need pillows, Sweetest; what I needis your heartbeat…
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A Lilly for Willow
send a flower for our darling dogshe’s been our sunshine these stormy sevenyears but now the Cancer has her and Ican’t even breathe – the shear thought of her gonebleeds my heart to Black. Send a flowerfor my Sweetest wife – how her red, red heartbleeds as well to Black! Our mutual sunshineis ravaged, savaged…
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Kali Dances
we went to kinney’s down on sixth becausewe like the jukebox, filled with old jazz and bluesstandards and classics from the nineteen-twentieson. kali especially likes munk and dukeellington and hoagie carmichael, andkali sizzles when she dances, so weall kept her happy, pumping dollars oneafter another and in fives to keepthe music fresh and hopping as…
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undergods of creation
I have just set the sun in the sky, slightlyangled toward afternoon, when my ghost comesto tell me my images are againinfantile like a child drawing with crayons.where are the birds, the jet from chicagostreaming its way to houston, or perhapsa reiterated ‘v’ of migratingfowl—it is the season—and where those leaves,richly colored in the bright…
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Humiliation
this image of the eagles down at ourriver keeps recurring. this bald eagledives lazily, riding gravity, overthe water, skimming just over its top,and then shoots out its talons to grasp a fishbut something goes awry and the fish flopsseveral yards across the river surface.unconcerned, the eagle loops back intothe gloaming sky to make a second…
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