Tag: DMpitchford
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After a Classic Poem
thoughts contained in nothing run out, waterleaking from a cracked urn, and where is keatsto chronicle its ode? but, no, it isnot graced with fauns nor bacchants dancing nude;indeed it is but a whitewashed vesselof no particular pedigree, banaland lonesome for its homeliness, commonenough to be found at any flea marketor the roadside shop of…
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she
she was alone, smoking a slim cigaretteand drinking chardonnay at the bar:legs up to the sky, clouded gently bya short skirt of diaphanous design;this was back when one could smoke cigarettesin public places. she was glamorousdespite that and the seedy dive, sinatraplaying over tinny speakers behinda bar conspicuously out of style.her eyes enticed as much…
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Equinox
we raised a toast to night and poesy,we raised our toast to the muses nine;she, smiling, reflected moonlight and star shine,pale face floating above the campfire, lightas mist but clear as the evening’s chill outsidethe campfire’s glow of warmth and hickory smoke. we raised a toast to tomorrow and life,we raised a toast to passions…
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Occult
mystery is a thing of feathers, flies awayon bat-wings, crawls into the earth through suspiciousburrowed holes, swims alongside sharks and within podsof dolphins, sings with angels’ voices, screeching onthe strings of demon fiddles and beats with drummingpercussion through the blood of all sentients. mysterythe lifeblood of knowledge and breath of wisdom, inhaledbrings curiosity to awaken…
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Pumpkin Holiday
awake into early chill, season of frostand the pumpkins are all in, yards bedeckedfor holiday of unholy . . . neverone to participate, our family hunchesbehind cinderblock walls, hoards its candyand hides from the general hostilitysociety seems to bear. this benigndistrust seems born in the genes, showing trueas well in all mother’s sisters, one whonow…
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Down on Fifth
forever the beggar, king of no kingdombut the dusty lanes of nowhere, he smilesfor his dimes, a blessing for a dollar;at midday, or when whim strikes him, oronce the coins add up to a little something,he slips down to the huck’s on carpenterstreet for a magnum of malt (and a pintof brandy, E-n-J, on a…
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Boomer Granddame
sad-eyed she says he needs her, but she can’tstand him. he’s a habit she’s had fortyyears now: how’s she supposed to quit him now;she mourns her wasted youth, though praises godover the seven fine children they raisedtogether—though one is dead and a daughteris in prison for life—she wonders aloudto that same god where everything went…
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Roadtrip
it was time for a change of scenery;too long we’d danced in stagnant rain on prairiesand wanted for some elevation, orperhaps bigger sky or broader blue scapes.undecided, we headed west in the carplaying novels on CD as the milesslipped by, the asphalt river racing pastbeneath worn tires and we watching roadsidesfor occasional animals, hawks byday,…
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Sanitarium
she asks if I suffer hallucinations.no, I suffer them nothing; I do, though,enjoy them much more than most other folks—I mean, I like my imaginaryfriends better than my real ones, not that Ienjoy hallucinations more than otherfolks enjoy hallucinations; I mean,your average jo either gets caught up ingames of denial and confusion between,or among, realities—how…
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Nighthag
she’s followed me home every day this month,lurking in shadows, just out of sight. firstI laughed at my own conceit, my own sadparanoia. but then a friend asked meabout my shadow, so I watched closer,more surreptitious, and there she was, coyas moonlight and insidious as night.last night, I heard her panting outside mywindow, her heavy…
Fringemonkey Scribbles 