Category: Uncategorized
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Toybox
My mind is a wrecked toy I don’t know where to go with that Trembling hands cupped around it We rock forth and back Singing and sighing Wordless admonitions Begging reparations From parents absent as the gods davidmpitchford 12/16/2025
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Song for Her Majesty the Ex
We were legendary, dear, doubt it never King and queen of fourteen-liners and verse Time moves on, yet in the reflection of that moment Printed in books with our names . . . we were great How was it we lost admiration for each other? Competition? No. Complication. Life Got in our way of living.…
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But is it a Poem?
Do they call it a poem? It’s a poem. Does it look like a poem? It’s a poem. Read it. Relish it. Savor it in your mouth Savor it in your ear and in your heart. Does it feel like something real? More than Real? Does it drug you with its puissance? If you cried…
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Imposter Syndrome
Send me flowers of reciprocity But gentle make them as a vernal breeze It is not for lack of will but skill That I return not your letters, dear friend I lament my own paucity herein But believe me please, when I decree How highly I value your amity, friendship And wonder always, how you…
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Flying into Things
started the morning in a dream of bliss, flying with the freedom of a juvenile redtail cutting through the air so smoothly kites envied me and the jays taught their fledglings to mimic every move as I danced through four dimensions despite these weird societal chains that tether mediocrity and the million lies that swarm…
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She Lately Left (Femme Fatale)
I never loved you, she said, never lovedanyone; I’m rotten, baby, rottento the core. it was all a sham, a graft,and you’re the sap. it was all aboutthe money, the security, the house,the picket fence, and the two-point-three carsin the driveway. you speak to me of love— what did you ever do for it? to…
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For Those Who Stand Strong!
THE SOBER OLD DRUNK whiskey was his drug of choice. he hardlyever deviated; only when moneygot too awful tight and he had to settlefor cheap vodka with red labels by the halfgallon (a liter point seven five, he wouldbe quick to tell you). scotch, of course was hisfavorite, occasionally irish whiskeyand twice a year cognac…
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Hope, homo, and Cynicism
there was a time before tears—but really,was there a time before tears? some time inevolution between the monkey and me?did Cro-Magnon cry; when/if they did,did their burly friends call them sissy-boy?and the Neanderthal folks, did they cry?so maybe it really is a Homo thingto do beginning with antecessorand continuing up to our contemp-orary sapiens sapiens…
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Spring Apotheosis
another morning you awaken from dreamsand drop into the flow of life’s sluggishriver (trapped on a sandbar of late) andsome wonder about the white waters’ rush,hoping you’ve not seen the last of this inour present life; Some want to run againbefore the race is over, want to huntagain the big game and find love beforethe…
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Deep Dark: a Walk Among the Ghosts
Moonless night. Perhaps New Moon?I hold no calendar to confirm.Out without my smartphone, disconnectedto a reason, thank you.Clover and wild onion spongysoftbeneath my steel-toed work shoes —after shift in the deep night, shallow morning.Only the sounds of distant traffic:a train a mile away sounds of electric whale;a bustle in a hedgerow ten meters north.Last thing…
Fringemonkey Scribbles 