Monthly Archives: May 2014

… My respiration and inspiration, the smoke of my own breath… -from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself … Nothing zings today. None of the words want to come out and play. They’ve all got minds of their own, a groan … Continue reading →

.. un -versed in its own stead -y beat. it’s light without heat and sting with no sway and it always, all ways wants its own way. this poem is a stub -born cuss, trussed by its own cage, raw … Continue reading →

# . i don’t mean to be brash, but why must we hash up every single thing we want to say? please, don’t think me rude, but your flip atti -tude and need to be followed make me want to … Continue reading →

… How often do we think of it, link our hearts to its spill, will our selves to fill just one page? How often do we smear it in our veins, let rage be stilled by some stub -born stage … Continue reading →

.. Raise your gurgled, rattled voice and steep my coffee in something stronger, love ,wood, energy, peace. Crystallize my art -ist sway. Choose to rhu (barb) the day, and then grow me something lean, green and sustained.   ..

… So much depends up -on a band wagon cleansing itself in the rain. Stone throne stuck with chicken feathers, we argue our century -shelled shroud, cruci -al -ble(d) -fied – Besides, we are a glut -inous ill -formed mass, … Continue reading →

… If your laugh is stuck, snuck under some muttered flutter, face true north, and smile. Even pigeons mate on rooftops, squeak their       ……..(tiny) minds, treat the weather report in kind. Still need something more? Grab a nametag. There’s a … Continue reading →

. She’s got a big one in her throat and two a little lower, teeny tiny, really, just be -low her heart. She starts each day with a prayer and a sigh, tries to do the normal, everyday things, wondering … Continue reading →