Up past the old lime kiln built into the side of a hill we take a hard right at a clearing lined by brittle apple trees still willing to bear fruit.I snap sticks beneath my feetand steal pictures of t...
Once, I took the penny whistle you gave me and discovered a spotby the roaring falls where I could play as loud as I wanted. I lay in the bifurcated trunkof a low-slung birch tree. The sun peeked thro...
I wonder what became of you, your JohnnyRotten skin, no Emerald City eyes.You'd have been a beauty if you let inferiority steam your glasses with its candor, sans laughter.
A giant motherboard of geese,unruffled by the statepolice, swarmed in unison,in harmony...
Once lively peonies nowwind-weary, and ragged at the edges, hang their heavy crowns; rain on their backs,one final act, beforedetaching from the stemand falling down.
He utilizesform for a striking lecture;young poets shiverinexperience,but thaw over their own work,fertilize magic.
In history, the bleeding from arbitrary beatings, forced breedings, and choked-heatbreathing could almost be withstood by soul-feeding songs sung, or listlessly hummed just to go on.
Who is so fancy, esoterica saves the day?Who is the Yogi, Namaste?
I write for pages,get lost in the mezzaninehidden from stages.