You like to be cleanBut you get dirty without apologyOr resentmentYou smell when you’ve been workingOf sweat and grease and trashAnd sticky icky gooAnd juice combined with brothNot in a recipe but on your skin aloneA smell that’s nowhere elseBut on youAnd on me when you touch meThe way I smell as you walk to…
Such unaccountable masses of shades and shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious young artist, in the time of the New England hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos bewitched.
Walking barefoot In the house that I loved, I cut my foot on a nail sticking out of a board. I got infected when it hurt and even though I soaked it in Epsom salts. I finally I recovered. I got a hammer, and I tried to hammer the nail in the board tries on…
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As the weight of the snow bends the bough,I consider the weight of the world.The branch could crackAnd part of it will be lostLeaving a scarAnd a feeling in the treeThat it is incomplete.Or a wind of change could comeAnd cause all that troubles the treeTo cascade to its foundation.But for now, it bends and…
I don’t think I’ll look for love again. maybe I’ll seek out a dark alley with opioid addicts, hoping for a victim from a foreign town whose absence won’t be noticed for a week or more. or perhaps I’ll take out an ad in the classifieds, if they still have those. I’ll list all of…
The lonely blackbird criesAs she flies across the morning skyOverdue at home to a family“I’m coming, I’m coming.” With nowhere to beAnd no one to take care ofI watch. And sip my coffee.And sigh.
A celebration of silence BecomesA celebration of the creak of the chairThe crack of his neck,The knock of her bonesThe cough of the manConsidering his coffinThe shuffle of feet Obviously stressed by the stillnessThe creak of a kneeThe chair againA sigh of settling for someone Who sighsDuring the moments set asideFor silent meditation And a celebration of tiny soundsinstead of silence.
If I should die before I wake, The laundry pile overflowing My unmentionablesWill surely be mentionedBy those who find me lying hereSleeping naked With a sheet and books stackedWaiting to be readAnd the curtains openSo that if I had arisenInstead of diedSomeone surely would have seen meIn the daylightAnd those who find me deadWould say it was a…
Truth-telling moon, brightly burn my eyesAs you gaze into my room and my bedLooking for someone who shouldn’t be spiedIn my sheets, in my house, even my life. Look each place you please. Make everything bright,The sun has already look’d at my head.You will never find a trace of that knight.No matter the dreams that…
