Category: Poetry

With the bitterness of the cold north wind, with fluid grace through the warm summer air, she wrote her last words, a message to send. With the tears falling, all that she could care now words on paper, written with a fair, steady hand and a tender, broken heart. The minutes passed slowly, none left …

I co-wrote this piece, it is not mine alone. “I am always told how empty I am, described as a desperate man always seeking water. Maybe because I seek not the drink but the reflection.” ~Narcissus But he too was seeking more than the quench of thirst, perhaps the quiet of the soul. Seeking to …

It all began with dragons and lost love along the muddy river banks. Like so many other things, it was never intended to be what it became. The soothing touch of hand and tongue, the warming comfort of word and thigh. Knowing isolation does not mean being alone, and that all hearts heal when care …

A friend once threw a dart at me with enough conviction for the tip to pass through my cheap blue jeans and embed itself an inch into my leg he was spun out on meth, it was day 3 of 5, he hadn’t looked where the dart was going I admire his resolve, his follow …

I watched the cucumber resting on top of the ice, floating on top of the water, filling the tall glass sitting on the table in front of me. I watched the ice melt, and the vegetable slice fall to the bottom of the glass. I thought of you, and the love for each other that …

Sometimes I fear that the abstract I write will become my reality. That the words I put down will become my life.

see the world in monochrome- bas relief snow on tree boughs capping mountain tops starlight reflected in crystal lending depth to the darkness

As the miles passed underneath, as time passed all around and a million moments were born, she never forgot her lover’s lips as they caressed her own, as they touched her flesh. Never again was she to feel their passage, or see tears falling to the earth in that memory of the moment, her lips …

I want to meet a younger me, pass me in a crowd maybe, or see me across a busy street. Young me, watching the people and cars passing by, distracted by a honking horn, eyes squinting in the bright sun. I want to yell, “hello” to me, but stop, because hello isn’t really what I …

He jumps. First, a jack knife, then, he curls into a ball, like an infant in the womb. He closes his eyes, and finds calm. The wind reminds him… Screaming to god. Terror fills him. He knows he is done. Asking for salvation and forgiveness. Begging to take it all back.