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Self Portrait #1

March 28, 2012 in Poetry, Wordsmoker

 

 

One wonders if perhaps the subject

sat reluctantly. Read the rest of this entry →

The Ash Pile

March 22, 2012 in Poetry

The Wild Hunt

I have been a poet
starting a rhythem
long ago. It was a little past
three hundred creature-years
when I got going.

Read the rest of this entry →

Ancestry

March 21, 2012 in Poetry

Ancestry

To rise,
the red light
escapes neatly
placed folds on fabric.

To escape,
the pantheon compares
tactics to young visionaries.
spectrum of shape compete Read the rest of this entry →

A Prayer in Black and Blue

March 9, 2012 in Poetry

“I love the rose that is not a rose,

but the second I try to speak it, any name

for God becomes so-and-so and vanishes.”

 

                                     -Rumi

Calligraphy in the morning.  A bell, a candle, beads.

Ink-stained fingers that ache and peel. Read the rest of this entry →

Empty Hands Part Five – Oh Lord Stuck in Samsara Again . . .

December 31, 2011 in Life, Philosophy, Poetry

Thinking you hold the root,

you hold only a branch,

a stem – why not let your hand

become a hand again

empty as the root you seek

– Peter Levitt

Read the rest of this entry →

Let Me Die In Spring

November 10, 2011 in death, Poetry

Let me die in spring,
Perhaps before the rains
With the promise of new life whispering
Through the trees.

This is not a metaphor for life,
As I have arguably reached my autumn
And I think winter will hold many pleasant surprises.
Spring is a matter of convenience.

Read the rest of this entry →

Haunted Hooters

November 1, 2011 in Poetry, Scary!

Today
it was a Hooters girl
with your smile.

One of the guys says
She looks evil.

Horns reach
for the sky
from the corners
of her lips
and for a moment
I forget
you are lost
to me.

Read the rest of this entry →

The Throne

October 27, 2011 in Poetry

 

I certainly am
a constellation of
of your interpretation;
then, in cold prayer
of Fe, something
is broken

Read the rest of this entry →

Quetzal

August 18, 2011 in Poetry

If I get up early, I can have coffee and a cigarette

at the café on Polk Street before work. It goes:

Order, pay.

Brown sugar.

Half & Half.

Cinnamon. Stir. Read the rest of this entry →