Category Archives: Original Poetry


After all; I am Possessive.   I should. Be alone. It stings. A year. Before. I’m grown.   Listen to the wicked wave hiss. It creeps up; whores.   I’m bare as a white sheet.    


You gleaming like water evaporated by cause, I blew the chalk dust from my hands, Late on his deed, it was done, It became another clown prince dream, For us, time was a myth. Under the street lights at night, The fine art of the distant moon mirrors my empty hands, Hands that bled at […]


Where does sound go & when does it stop? [Note to self: research this]   I saw a boy with his hands torn off – a still, on impact.   The next shot is a girl opened wide; the mouth, the eyes call – .   The moment solidifies, is livid, remains what it is […]


suffering gives reason to believe & not to. i’m bedevilled meanwhile   by symbols, images of death, martyrdom, memory, the clump   of body blows, curved steel on flesh; the severing of a boy’s   consciousness. i choose not,   not because it’s rational, but as protest.   i have striven not for correctness, philosophic […]

going somewhere?

The cat’s fur lights the dark on the other side of the glass. Her tail   disappears, like a swish white dress or a   fish, infinitely Dear – darkness   shows me …   Decidedly, I’m pre-Aquarian. I tell you I have flown   over sea & mountain. During the brandy, half dead,   […]

on the idea of death

It comes; the tongue would penetrate, string her up but never does; rolls instead the pearl, & lingers there.   2 The cat, for instance, has her mind shut to it. Granted, the tail flickers & her ears twitch as if she’s heard death’s shadow; next minute   tho she knows nothing.   3   […]

2 poems (blood spots – )

blood spots    no-one comes as the pen   strips the page of content   The caterpillar crawls along the ragged road.                                       words are birds in their cages free skimmed like stone out   the window the […]


there’s time tho to stop; retract the word, your step, back to where/before you even thought of it. no sweat – the hand- gun is/ – and, gone.  a fact for a long   long/. historians   know but not why, by what way you come, some chance! determines. or wanting discipline. the mind fidgets […]

two poems –

 1. to know him is to love him   what goes on but bone, flesh, tight curls; the stories I would tell. Go   on: score your nail down. i fear tho i might burst or fold like there’s no   stuff to hold me.   2stuff                                                                                                                1 March 2018   there’s now, & […]

how i got here

My feet move w/out thinking. You pass me on the pavement. Occupy the back room of. I can’t remember – not one step; heart-   felt –     ; moment; how I got, the way I went. It remains: the weight of –   One step – .I’m like a robot. Even now, & tho I’m […]

death of you

POW! a man like me but much younger, out- gunned, commandeered.   I’d cut you down from the suffering which humbles the spirit.   You never recover. In London, wait; take orders, bow & later, alone with yourself, feel like a tool, & struck down at 50. You gave your wife   6 children & […]

meditation on chicken supper

it’s reasonable to kill yourself, granted. if you think about it, hard enough. days are the same; only shorter, colder…   but that’s just logic, which is nothing – intangible, like number; rational, ultimately stupid.   when my chicken’s legs froze i took it to the vet; & when it died, i buried it. i […]