Excavation They found my fossilized remainswhile excavating a freeway on-ramp.They were encased in volcanicrock, millions of years old.In fact you can still see the site today,abandoned within the cloverleaf of I-89. Of course, after the constructionall that remains is a vague outline—a foot, some hair, a couple teeth.And there isn’t even a plaqueto memorialize the …
Category Archives: Poems
Emily’s Legacy
Emily’s Legacy Emily Dickinson’s sunlit horsesand snakes sliding through the grasslive now on a New England farmwhere they look over bailsof freshly mowed hayand miss their patron terribly The northeast pastoralhas a long memorybut only back to Emilywho shuttered her windowswhen the ladies came to callbut never shooed away the beeor shrank back from the …
Distant Thunder
Distant Thunder I. The First Year Somewhere, off our mountain,the rumors say oldbattles continue. But here the sun is warm,and distant wars meanlittle to hummingbirds. News can be slow to reach us,and harder stillto comprehend. Yes, we know they are dying still.But the planes don’t fly overhere anymore, and although the thunder can sometimes soundlike …
Business Expenditures
Business Expenditures I unpack my lustin cheap hotel roomsof cities I’ll never see. I toss him carelesslywith my change and roomkey onto the nightstand, Where my lust sits forgottenas I shower and gaze into thenight, dripping with neon. My fingertips paint runes onclouded glass, and we hearlaughter across the hall. Fresh and clean andnewly dressed, …
Ben
Ben You say you don’t like poetry don’t want to hear it just never got it and I swoon because your air in my lungs wants to thicken into words birth verses composed of our mingled spit two tongues that nose playfully in the rain stanzas of falling sweat strophes written with a single finger …
Altar
Altar I worship nightlyat the shrine of your ass. For it is the cavewhere Buddha sleeps. A wishing wellfull of coins and dreams. A mysterious and unexpected letterto be opened slowly with deliciousanticipation. (First published in Dressing Room Poetry Journal, 2013)
Agent Rex
Agent Rex My dog is an anarchistwho slinks home at nightwith shame drippingfrom his muzzle. His eyes have become hardand glassy,his coat tattered from midnightdesperate close rangecombat training. My dog is an anarchistand no longer trusts his food.He uses the catas his taste tester.She doesn’t see the dangerso for now he lets her live. My …
The Hereafter
The Hereafter I contracted with a professional cartographer to create a map for my book (The Last Handful of Clover). It came out great! I’ll be using it in marketing, and I hope that it is intriguing enough for people to want to check out the story. Thank you @thisisnotreale !!!! P.S: If this makes …