warm crescent roll,eager tongue kind of day in America a surreal arousal waitsjust outside the glass on the streets lined with the algebras of the individualwords follow the lead straw and mud brigadesmarch tide oceans finger rivers brick buildings her…
view finding a postcard crumbled kingdom in the Suncollar tag jangling in the racing afternoon my dog says breathe with a smile if you canI build a small fire in the pit at the end of the yardroast peeps with my daughter as if those little sugar chicki…
the crumble wall of my Jerichoclear sky wideApril swing genitalslong armed treesbleed distilled frenzy in cyclical symphoniesthis is Spring from the bird trills to the flower trumpets that herald Persephone’s return to Demeterchildren garden inten…
The first 12-Hour Word Fest Open Mic took place at the 2009 Albany Word Fest. In an effort to give everyone an opportunity to share their word at the annual
mother bird told me to go I was kicked out of my house when I was 14truth is I waskicked out of her heart long before that she wouldn’t answer any questionsor let me leave without conditionsthat made renditional recall a somethingwithout believi…
this is what the words are wings just waiting for me outside the glass knives to petal garland past where butterflies and beaks clutch pearls and lace the wind stipple slow downs begin enough to rest and turn the e…
the ghost of a rosein the neighborhoodof treesspread dreamt full fingeredI outstretch fora blind morelike a loose garmentslung or hungto whatever corner of skin and boneI canquietlyquite quicklystick tosilencehand-waitsfor every clasp-returnof a l…
thoughts, posting a poem a day better to lens the daytime at night bright light fright plight is the world whirling whorls here come the curl wavesthe reeds all rifled with eggshidden in one basket divide the sea tide rides the water from where the ani…
Pan said to waitbefore She camestart writing nearthat big tree hung with bark blossom careenfanning hangs of genitaliaeach branch a little treea diorama that sees infinity in small scale growth factorssky reaching blue&nbs…
as I would look out at the nightride her Moonarmrest callto Junean overstuffedvelvet covered chairdare me past each bare threshold open my heart a window againlet spill curtain symphonieswear alleyways on skinned pleasinggetting through things li…
chained to mountain viewsor the poems that spill sidewaysand the poems that fill ridden daysthese are the words that a soul’s geometryconnects the dots withhandfuls of carvebleeding a sieveof blossomed tomorrowswith the swill thirst of morethe crawl bu…
America has no soul, only symbolsit’s the people here,that got the goodssitting at the kitchen tablenot able to eat anythingexcept what I writeand it doesn’t really matterwhat I write as long asthe rivers of words are fullof blood and underpinningsmost…
