Mixing Mythos

I am in love with goddess of the moon, Though I am of another pantheon, I sacrifice myself to her instead – Leaving my dead tree for her soft embrace * Her cat-yawned stretch figure touches my heart, She the protector of the sun, soft fur, And I the wolf chaser of other stars Still,... Continue Reading →

Blue-Stained Skies

We beat back the long grey clouds stretching out coating the tops of our skyscraper world and put down hard blankets of the deep chill reaching through the flat-light afternoons to earth. * Long hours long nights long roads long horizons November-February skies mix together into mate tombstone paintings until time strips away mistakes in... Continue Reading →

The Poet’s Keeper

I am not a poet for poets My lines won't stay straight under scrutiny hands with skill will feel my ineptitude fault lines of an idiot in the dark * drunkenly scratching sketches on the wall if you look at no art, it looks like art no art looks like my art next to good art... Continue Reading →

From the Mind of an Asylum Saint

(Ekphrastic Poem for @addictedtomonsters)   Automatopia mind on paper Starry skies connect ink in skin in mind The old worlds holding new worlds held by me Anachronisms in the moonlight scars * Aspirations from abstractions piercing Through thought and time and distance with dead dreams Live dreams form circles on circles on the Side of... Continue Reading →

Disco

  I see you standing under disco light The universe readjusts around you My world moves to create a new center Particles of dust freeze around your form. * You under the trees, a delicate frame Around your feet dead leaves, hair frames your face and everything nods in your direction. * I see you... Continue Reading →

Beat Away the Blues 1967

(Ekphrastic poem for Nina Simone, Boston Photograph by Lee Tanner 1967) Stand alone in a world of black on white cords disappear in depths, wires spark sound with lips apart arms apart lights apart eyes hidden behind wider angles flash * holding up the metal sun of the mic roaring at the hub city on... Continue Reading →

Poem for an Urban Mythology

  Here is what I know. Ash tree in the yard is frozen again, Icicles hang as doomed men from the tree, in shapes of black and crystal against the frost of window. I know that to make her fall in love with me, I read Cummings. Her hands are always small.   I’m under... Continue Reading →

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