Poetry

The grackle as invisible priest

By on Feb 12, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | 0 comments

They possess nothing but two noises— one a skeleton clacking upstairs, the other the shriek of wounded stars. What heartless god curses this summer bird with such a hue and cry? They descend like black angels expelled from heaven, and land like an affront, croaking the rudeness of the blinding sun. Who clothed them in this inky cloak then cast them unsponsored through the air? Two clash over some discarded scraps, lock beaks tight...

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If Rather Perpendicular

By on Oct 9, 2016 in Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

  If we imagined the divine as horizontal instead of vertical,   would saints have wheels—or skis, in northern reaches?   Would worshippers look into the distance with leveled eyes and   imagine their loved ones beyond the line of trees, hills, or concrete?   And would houses of worship be tunnels whose ends projected their sacred symbol,   to the vanishing point where vision failed and faith...

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Interior Monologue (Girl with Smart Phone)

By on Sep 25, 2016 in Featured, Humor, Poetry | Comments Off

Though it’s no mace, but cell phone in my hand, I’d like to favor you. But I’ve a slew of messages whose import countermand desires of my awestruck retinue who pass me with petitions on the street. Because of this, I claim the royal right to read my e-mail following a tweet to devotees while you keep me in sight. Indeed, not only are my hands not free, but texting makes it difficult to turn, acknowledging those holding doors for...

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In Velvet

By on Sep 25, 2016 in Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

  (The Blessings of George Costanza) Draped in velvet, the petite wallflower emerges fresh, from a diner, ready for a summer of love: the true self blooms with all to gain and nothing to lose. Now is the time to indulge in a decade of urges. Disable the angst, just like flicking a switch to will hush the chorus of doubt within: acting as a binary shadow-self is to see your life become all it was meant to be. This is no lie if you...

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Snow Trails

By on Feb 22, 2016 in Poetry | Comments Off

It’s been snowing all day, large dry     flakes floating down without leaving a trace except on walking trails I’ve built that curve round the house like a Priest’s     surplice, before descending to a mountain stream in the hollow, where massive boulders, heaved up from the earth long ago, make     deep pools beside white water thrust against granite. Inuits believe snow has many voices and snow...

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Centred

By on Feb 21, 2016 in Poetry | 3 comments

the sun stands midway between my hands as I reach for icicles from the eaves while rosehips hang frosted with snow solstice bread rises in the grate I open curtains for my lost love

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