Deliberate footsteps fell one behind the other onto cracked concrete, heel then toe clad in cleat soled hiking boots laced in orange, the color of warning signs and life jackets and hard hats and reflective patches and safety cones, the color of his teeth and hair and eyelashes and the letters in his head that flashed but made no words only floated razor-sharp before his omnivorous eyes a breadcrumb trail to inevitability Continue reading Orange
Image via Book Riot Continue reading Happy Thanksgiving!
Gessy Alvarez mentioned my poem “Up To Down” in the latest issue of “Editor’s Eye” on Fictionaut. I was surprised and delighted, to say the least. It’s so gratifying to have an accomplished writer and editor like Gessy recognize my work, especially a piece that has special significance to me such as this one. As a lover of words and creative language, I’m especially happy with her comments: A good poem should feel like a shot of caffeine injected into your consciousness. It should clobber you with the possibilities of language. and Hamrick delivers an avalanche of a poem with … Continue reading “the possibilities of language”
The moon hung low in the sky not quite half in size and glowing like a neon sign for wayward astronauts. A big pine tree backlit by a street light raised its spikey boughs beneath as though stretching to brush electric confetti from the crescent surface. The dog and I meander down the street, he sniffing for the perfect place to pee, toenails clicking like ghosts tapping on a window and I thinking about you and me under the same moon on the same planet but, really, more than worlds apart. Continue reading Worlds Apart
Should we climb the wall grasping with blind fingers and toes for love cracks clinging to sweetness turned to dust in our moldy mouths Should we drag our anger and our blue acquiescence, bloodied, over a cat tongue rack for misplaced hope cooled to lifeless ash Or should you go your way and I’ll go mine spraying splats of graffiti bile and trailing yellow streaks behind us Continue reading Up To Down
The back of the ear lobe is hidden. It’s soft and meek and brings no attention to itself. Very fine hair lies on the neck parallel to it, hair as soft and fine as the first down of baby birds when they’ve just opened their eyes for the first time. The back of the earlobe is soft. It invites touch, it desires touch. A finger lazily caresses the lobe,it’s tip fitting snugly into the hollow in back. A tongue lightly licks the edge of the lobe from jawbone below to the stiff cartilage above. Lips nibble. A nose nuzzles, inhaling … Continue reading Tackling a Big Topic
I love rainy days. I’m always more introspective when it rains and it makes me want to write. Rainy days are complex. Like snowflakes, no two rainy days are the same. They can be stormy, wind-driven howls from hell or sprinkly with tiny bits of water lightly landing on eyelids and cheeks or a steady soak, slaking a thirsty earth. Rainy days are the unpredictable girls, moods shifting from happy to enraged in the blink of an eye. Sunny days are the girl next door, constant in temperament, always with a smiling face. When I was a child I lived … Continue reading Rainy Hazy Day
“To Do Today, 1/17/08 1. Sit and think 2. Reach enlightenment 3. Feed the cats” ― Jarod Kintz, I Should Have Renamed This Lately I’ve been thinking about lists. Now that I have time to think about doing all the home maintenance chores that have gone undone for the past five years while we cared for aging parents, I’ve been wondering if I should just bite the bullet and make a list. Wondering is the operative word because I haven’t written 1. on a piece of paper or document yet. I’ve never been a list maker and I kinda … Continue reading Thinking About: My Aversion to To Do Lists
wafting curtains pushed by the wind glow in the rays of the late afternoon sun the call of the cicadas echo, rising and falling, a shrillness fading to murmurs a helicopter flies overhead, a shadow on earth’s drowsy landscape the in-between time rides a current of nonchalance ______________________________ Shared on dVerse Poets Pub, an online community of poets who share their work and support each other. Continue reading Late in the Day
the air is sticky as a licked stamp clouds the color of wartime mud water falls over slickend stone into a pool of yellow pock marked leaves and bits of twig, nature’s face is sobersided Continue reading Morning Meditation 9.22.13
