cliff-song
This song migrated from her playlist to mine, like a wish-feathered feeling she owns…
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fallen fates
Against all my heart has loved I hold a difference and a debt
lies and lilies
she slapped him
lens on a recluse
Strange does fit the recluse, dresses up a bit the riddle of it.
when kissed by less
Not all fights are with fists.
all the tortures (excerpt)
He slunk as he whispered it: “Don’t do this.”
the postcard
“There is something about this picture,” she penned…
some tales have no tell
No legend came by it ignobly
that’s gonna leave a mark
It was a rickety rack and a rook at risk, all chess to be checkmated, I swear.
the tear-kiss
Give me the prick of suffering, then.
climb
Are clouds good for skipping stones? I’d like to know…
glinting bastion
Your salted instance, a glinting bastion.
reynolds-tin
It starved me then. So I ate from it twice.
prairie fire
Maybe you’ve never seen a man lose his hope in the smoke…
unspoken for
Let me be…more than that bitter-root wine.
color the cow
Maybe it doesn’t matter if you do right.
gossamer in the crown
Leave me to live on your ceiling and, between us, well enough alone.
barely there
Happiness, I swear…
crackerjackin’
More music…
why we were on the bus
To what sunset should I sweat-lay the rail?
three girls: jazzy lou
Jazzy Lou would be a song
the gulls would sing…
dolor cordis
It rhymes its rack-and-ruin rise to the hope in my glacé eyes.
the poet: a community interaction
Read me with a genuine desire to see me.
dublemma
It’s been a little too quiet in here…
sandbox souvenirs
Originally posted on WINDSTREWN:
In myriad ways, now and since, I’m less a formidable force than then, When I was…
throwback: 2007: the dream of words
Hope bore you home and when you came, mystery fell and broke open wide.
tiza (excerpt)
The children…called him “Tristeza del Padre.”
tetelestai
Tetelestai
throwback: 1998: the music box
The cloth of music is sewn as the spiny drum spins its wonder-thread.
throwback: 1991: stowaway
Swing your smile on my heart like children play
regretless
But I’ve become a worn welcome to chance, having dreamt near all I’ve done.
WINDSTREWN 