Tag: poetry
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torn bread
hot steam rising a cooling pot the Colorado moon, black as night cold ear pressed a thinning wall a sightless chickadee her January tune lost anchors (of) my i’s wings (right off) my back how to unbreak the broken
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ars poetica*
I miss the curve of you your long, snaking lines pink with their meaning meaning only, I (will never fully) understand the fire I contain (for you) is not fire at all it is cold and clear and terrible; ripe, round mountains peaks of a book an explosion of sky the thick neck of a leaf heavy with its gravity here, I am crazy and strange and it is revered: my crazed strangeness; oxygenated ambition, …
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A pansy grew
from a green pot filled with last summer’s lily bulbs A pansy grew in brown soil, rich with holes of desperate squirrels A pansy grew in late November after weeks of soft frost and no running water A pansy grew her center a violet butterfly her wide wings petaled white A pansy grew and I knew I’d keep…
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the Bee
All afternoon I listened to the bumble bee buzz, this is what they told me: “Listen Button, when I tell you they were drunk, I don’t mean beer-with-lunch-cocktail-hour-wine drunk, I mean speech-slurring-bodies-weaving-fall-down-and-leave-me-here drunk, I mean stinkin’ drunk. Picture a massive swarm of us all liquored up, gallons of that post-rain-elixing good stuff pumpin through our veins, oooh weee! Liquored up and heading to the hive, bumping into everything but each other- that was them…
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Presence
Today I walked and walked and walked all the same sidewalks and neighborly streets I usually do and somehow I knew I would not find a heart stuck in or on the pavement a perfect shadow of light, the perfect pink petal of a flimsy cosmo “not today” something told me and I knew it…
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Verticalities
If the truth stands and the secret dies Why am I still lying on the kitchen floor Of someone else’s heart? Where is my heart? What does it have to say? About me, I mean. Why am I still unable to say the word ‘Mother’ without explaining it? Without experiencing that charge around my…
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new moons
everywhere I look someone is trying to convince me of the moon- of her dark of her new of her wax of her wane -trying to convince me she wouldn’t be 7.8% full of herself if her Earth were empty still. Am I too just a head of swaying sunflowers beside a fastly driven road? Full…
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Dear Button,
All day I listened to the Blue Jay squawk and this is what they told me- “It’s okay, you’re okay. even when it feels like you aren’t, you are- We’ve got you, Your army of Angels your Chickadees and Blue Jays, your Mourning Doves. We were there when you took your first gurgled breath, and…
santos scribes 