Cum granu salis
There is the commitment of a slow suicide inside my mouth flaring nerve tissue makes me a beast of seconds foregone my extravanganza, the wordsome Walpurgnis Night of wild hue candelabras burning into the popliteal intimacy of progress - relinquished Swearing and sweltering I lock myself in debasement reddish eyes sore at glaring screens a ...
gaze
I observe myself with scientific precision: a large-brained primate manipulating an artifact with dexterous fingers. I have gone to bed with blackness lately for those who know how that feels. Time's racing. Imagine you are the only one in the universe you are its grimace and everything is suspended Perhaps we need words that last, ...
we hasten not
it is high noon and the bright fruits shine in the air is a promise of decay we let the sun pour its old light on us and bury imagination in warm smiles we save up for higher seasons, for longer shadows for deeper promises and gentler declines slow and infinite are our thoughts, we ...
rough sleeper
near my home is a railway bridge and I see a man sleeping rough does he belong here? in a dirty sleeping bag spread on corrugated cardboard, a paper coffee cup his current account only his teeth remember his story I, too afraid to offer him a shower drop my coin in his paper cup ...
Age of We
seen from up here there is grace in everything seen from up here walls fence nothing in, or out. they are the dashed lines our children cut along seen from up here humanity is a flock of little birds. we see patterns and leap ahead, 'wake up!' but up here our voice is thin and ...
the joy of writing
self-awareness boils in your bloodstream you feel immersed in the wanton inflation of the infinite hole that homes you, and keeps you dissolving into that heightened state of mind, so you can push the buttons or beings loopiness. now two minds in such a state will smile at each other as two monads, on a ...
Leap Year
Today, let us delay into this world into wishing the world to each other today let us hinge for heaven's sake on a truth untold, like falcons braving the cold air over a silent lake today is a flake of time, a fold in which we can whisper our desires to the precious ears of ...
Robert Creeley (1926-2005)
This poem by Robert Creeley perfectly fits Bernie Sander's campaign. “I want, if older, / still to know / why, human, men / and women are / so torn, so lost / why hopes cannot / find a better world / than this.”
Santa Clauses
I want to describe this Christmas market with its two santa clauses with its smell of burning sugar and nuts its pointy shoed elves, its fake snow on miniature chalets, its happy tunes its steel frames covered with fake silk flowers its plastic mistletoes in the flickering light with a language that isn't subject to ...
the sea
dark waves pound the steep cliffs below where the sea is great and never settles i dream to find shelter, to house in her to return to those first beginnings to access the experience, to welcome the waves when they roll home to me and my love. i whisper to her, stay because of everything we buried ...