Hi friends,
In collaboration with my friends at Raw Earth Ink, I’m thrilled to announce the mid-February release of my first poetry collection, a place of forgetting. More info coming soon.
Oh, I designed the cover!
Book announcement!
Silk or Thorn?
I do not believe
in gods ordained by men.
This belief is not a choice.
It just is…
The Wizard
Today, I overhead
a young man tell a woman,
“I am a wizard.”
Hmm. Perhaps,
he is the wizard
of la boulangerie.
Typewriter Ribbons
Typewriter ribbons
stretched taut across
an expanse of dreaming.
The voyage, bottomless
wells of ink, clinking.
An age of messages seeps
The Last Lullaby
There are too many bombs in the air.
There are too many screams in the night.
O’ Sweet Mercy, look at us
from your perch in the sky
and whisper to the wicked,
“Son, put down your knife.’
—
Continue reading “The Last Lullaby”
A Gentle Bed
Moss-covered loam
in shade, gentle bed,
exhales quietly ‘neath
pressing, weary heads. Continue reading “A Gentle Bed”
A Broken Human Machine
Tangled
bird’s-nest beard
stooped ‘neath wet blankets
a broken human machine
meant to quality-check fear
Whispers in Walled Gardens
Before I stirred,
I dreamt I heard
whispers in
a walled
garden.
Still Veiled
Sweetness! I dearly remember the aching flow
of time. The haunted Decembers, glacially-bound,
frozen, despaired. Still veiled, you refused to go
The Crows of Babel
Morning breaks upon Babel, crows caw, stirring from perches,
corvid-colloquialisms, complaints, single-voiced, to-all-alerting,
this, the gaping dearth, morsels missing, hungry bird, listening
to whispering passersby, ignoring their beaky-hissing, pinching
occasional ankles or errant fingers, angrily issuing edible edicts,
to hapless builders, millers, stonemasons, and/or tired children.
Oddly Fitting
Excuse me.
I have made a mistake
in choosing my footing,
into mouth, oddly fitting,
a self-inflicted drive-by shoe-ing.
The Seeker
You call yourself a seeker,
forever forward-reaching.
But, you are not seeking.
You are fleeing your fear.