Your breath mingling with mine is absorbed into my weary heart. Blood freely flows in nourishment of my spirit, renewed. This little poem was inspired by the following lines from “Said the Shotgun to the Head” by Saul Williams. “When I can feel you breathing into me i, like a stone gargoyle atop some crumbling building, spring to life a resuscitated angel.” Continue reading A Moment, Turned Around
Homage to “Out of Africa” The first whiff of steeping Dark Roast and… beneath the Ngong Hills the low murmur of the coffee pickers, fingers wet with early morning dew. Continue reading Morning Meditation 10/7/14
The walking path stretches out before me, each step a peek into a crystal ball and I the gypsy soothsayer. Continue reading Morning Meditation 10.6.14
You breathe fire for the audience, a bravado thin as vellum. Behind your fingers a tongue waits it’s turn for celebrity asses and all gather round to roll the black ball. Continue reading Nepotism
Kick against the sun. The great generator, its spangles and chains. Belly into dusk the silence the still air the curve of trance. Let your shadow shimmy over the floor of the deep end. Mysterious. Cool. Like Jimi plucking steel strings with his teeth and spitting out stones. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shared on dVerse Poets Pub, an online community where poets share their work and support each other. (image via) Continue reading the deep end
Water, condensed on the windows Like all the hopes in your gut that Never were released. Outside people Walk through the oppressiveness Intent on the busyness of their lives. A small flame flickers waiting To burn off the sludge. Continue reading Rise
I recently discovered Contrariwise: Literary Tattoos, a website that shows literary tattoos people have had inked on their bodies. A tattoo is not something I’m interested in for myself but I do find them interesting and the reasons people get them interesting. I like the one above particularly because it’s from the poem “Antilamentation” by Dorianne Laux, one of my favorite poets and poems. It’s a beautiful and honest line and a poem all by itself. I also like the placement of the design because I like the idea of a tattoo being hidden and only revealed to a select … Continue reading Literary Tattoos
A flash of brown and red scrambles up a spire of green, holds on tight at the top like a desperate man on the ledge of a burning building. Squirrels in the bamboo. Continue reading Morning Meditation 5.6.14 – Squirrels
The unexpected humidity of a late April night curled the wisps of hair on my damp, exposed neck. The stillness of the air lay as heavily as a predator patiently waiting, the stars shining like sharp white teeth in the moonlight. Continue reading Hunting
From the window of a moving train you can see only the big picture. Clouds and a wall of green move past like a dream that vanishes when you wake. To focus on one tree or one house or cloud makes your eyes cross with a feeling of hurtling into space from the broken safety harness of a runaway roller coaster, causing the hours old coffee in your stomach to rise thickly into your throat. Continue reading The Big Picture
