Monthly Archives: February 2009

Facsimile

Born from this sorrow, fury climbs her spine
and the sterile twigs of barren tree branches scrape
the winter windows of her home abundant
with noise where the children number
four, even so she is alone changing
teaspoons of sand into stars.

In her eyes the sun shines stubborn casting
shadows of an absent smile, the bronchitis
cough that persists, pulls at her skirts as she works
and works. Born from this sorrow
a compression explosion, broken glass
and breakfast is served.


what if…

What if
the Most Important
Poet
ever is alive
and stranded
on an undiscovered
island,
skin leathered
like roast chicken
existing on fear
and speared fish writing
the Most Brilliant
Poetry
in history
on a notebook
of sand, punctuated
by clams and erased
forever daily,
never to be read
by anyone
but her.


Video Deposition

Hyena is as shadow stretched
speaking in his grinning way,
a million needle pointed teeth,
dripping reassuringly
‘til Rabbit’s frantic heart stops racing
fast as prey from predator.

Four grey stones pressed to her breast,
she holds them close, cradles them.
My God, she sighs through bunny lips
as sunrise creeps over the ridge,
“Thank you for Hyena’s keep.
The babies sleep as sound as Keats.”


The LiteraryMary Print Journal is a Beautiful Thing

Hand numbered, after shipping there are 31 left for purchase.  They are beautful.  I am in love with them.

If you ordered one already, enjoy!

If not, get yer ass in gear.

damned-fine-reading1

give-what-back

poetry-is-exciting

Order here.  The journal, not the babies…


And Here I Am, Exactly the Same

Every poet reads the same. Inflection
as nicotine gum droning,
stretched too long, too far
to work
anymore.
I am wise, it says.
I am seasoned.
I can see the world
for what it really is.
I am an individual but have received
my invitation
to this private
party.

MY words
have
WORTH.

My words
have
worth?

My words
HAVE
worth.

There is the girl

with heavy boots
and an oversized
necklace of bone
and shell.

There is the girl

with a ring
of black
eyeliner
and a bun
of bleached
blonde
hair.

There is the girl

with perfectly buffed
(not painted)
finger nails.

There is the boy
with an Amish beard
of pubic hair.

There is the boy

in pajamas.

There is the boy

with dreadlocks
who stinks.