Monthly Archives: June 2015

Iamb-ivalent

I like the way the rhythm sounds, the way the stresses make their rounds. These scattered phrases have their beat, but still they trip on their own feet. Iamb a poet without a cause, a rebel p(r)oser who’ll take a … Continue reading

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skipping a beat

  prompted by quickly.  

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cusp

. one of those days when dark comes in pieces and nobody knows the color of the sky. the sulfur scent of silence and rain that isn’t ripe enough to fall. the cold blue of flame at the center of … Continue reading

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Bet her. Late, then never.

the trick of finding what you didn’t lose (existing’s tricky:but to live’s a gift) the teachable imposture of always arriving at the place you never left. -E.E. Cummings   .. She’s all in, ready to be -gin again. She’ll need … Continue reading

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Read, All Over

.. This poem is black clacked on ivory snow, kerned coal footprints across a field of ice. This poem is one tiny piece of rice in an ebony bowl, a flutter of feather against the night sky. This poem craves … Continue reading

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Resonance

.. Sound is the lull -aby. Noise is the alarm. Sound is the hum of sky. Noise is the storm. Sound is the strum of blue. Noise bleeds red through and through. Noise is the cough of Venus or Mars. … Continue reading

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Druthers

sunshine tutu her way through the tulips and barefoot beg this grass to cartwheel us whipfast into a long slow summer of cool nights and fireflies and street -lights as curfew. She wants a periwinkle marker and enough smooth creamy … Continue reading

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Sticky Vinyl

.. Miles and miles and miles and miles and miles to go in a hungry deep green Ford Gran Torino and Are We There Yet and She’s on My Side and a board on the floor so we can both … Continue reading

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Stuck in Craw

.. and clawing through yet another box. We’ve asked directions (in? out? toward? above? between?) and analyzed our own bright dreams. Does it mean that we must tell bold stories in comic strips, sit on indigo chairs until the hourglass … Continue reading

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Oceans and Orchards

. Has the world gone mad? A deep ache in its own ancient springs, a superstitious shake of salt over left shoulder. Our fault lines are showing. Trace them in the sand, stain them to your skin – strength in … Continue reading

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