Tag Archives: poetry

four words to break winter

These trees greet Spring skeletal and  plural, branches barred in a twill weave, just green at the budding tips as the roots release sap that coalesces to sugar feeding the season or boiled down in kitchens to its dark promise, staining … Continue reading

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 21 Comments

ichor

untethered, cells run renegade, pathologic lines laying down armor en cuirasse;  which is what kills in the end, the immortal simply something that refuses to die when prompted and waits, bloodless like the old gods, hungry for ichor unsustainable, we forget how to … Continue reading

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , | 18 Comments

dust spores under the bed to toadstool nightmares when inhaled fairy rings tall as ferris wheels spin behind eyes where brooms won’t reach and I can’t kiss whateveritis away anymore though he thinks I can with that desperate faith children have– they’ll … Continue reading

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , | 49 Comments

snowflake

dust has no words in a quiet art of freezing particulate core of a molecular heart spinning six arms in predetermined space an arrangement dictated through surface tension until layered water sends the spin downwards in spiraled weight the drift of feathers through … Continue reading

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 60 Comments

samaritan

there is nothing samaritan here if the stranger stays strange until you paste a face on her if you have to see your mother bruised your sister raped your daughter cut your son gay your wife hungry to care, it’s … Continue reading

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , | 23 Comments

Not dead yet

They called it dead, then asked if God was too. Maybe it is, with wakes in Lit class, where language cut is exsanguinated.  But where what’s bled dries to chalk dust, sometimes a wing shudders almost to flight. We need … Continue reading

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 40 Comments

lake effect

snow on the equinox is silent, still, mulish; not the last grasp of winter in ditches and the shaded side of trees– this is cool rebellion written in Christmas-card perfect flakes slow and soft in their spiral, pale feathers lining … Continue reading

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 12 Comments