Category Archives: Poetry

MY FIRST POETRY CLUB

I HAD a poetry club
but they all got fired.
The strip club said
I was taking away
all their business.

:: 08-21-2014 ::


MICROSCOPICSILICOVOLCANOCONIOSIS

Microscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
I ate you in all my youth…
buried my face deep inside
     The depths of your soul
inside mother earth’s
vaginal soul!
     I smoked two packs a day
but lived and worked
deep inside between
her thighs — mother
     Silicone of death
and I hear…
a murmur of love
she loves me
     And I love you!
could you let me
If I said I cared for you!
microscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
     Words, so lovely trip us
long love and life
I keep talking to you
and I want to know…!
     I dug inside your soul
and fed you my heart!
So I want to know
what’s the name of the game
     So small and large
I ate you and died
but dear lover…
tell me you love me
     I dug inside
you ate me
I loved you
and now
     We’re one

:: 08-21-2014 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – C WHITE SPACE DETOURS

I ride the path by mouth
and nothing more
The pen is dried  and tears
have taken a road by south.

Who should feed my vagrant words
they starve at day and flee by night!
And detours, forked by white Spaces

And pregnant pauses give birth
to tiny doubts upon my ink!
I watch the children drown there.

A fountain in the square of town
is where I dip my quill,
and the Crier shouts,

“Oyez, Oyez, Oyez!”  

Remember all the good souls!

:: 08-23-2014 ::


BY THE GALLOWS

I built an edifice
of glory
by the fountain
near the river
I sweat the tears
and the labor
I made my home
by the gallows

E la mia vita, come
i momenti …
appendere dall’illusione

[And my life, like the
moments…
hang by illusion]

:: 08-21-2014 ::


MOURNING DOVE WING WHISTLE

THERE!  Love in a white-feather soul
And I saw you in my dream a mourning ago
I fill my feeder with sugar liquor
And last week you flew to the beak
The surprise of a golden heart
when doves take flight they give
a silver-pitched whistle…

My mourning dove wing whistle!

:: 08-21-2014 ::


MARY MADE MODERN PROMETHEUS

There you were, locked
in a wintry summer
that long cold
volcanic winter
by Mount Tambora
eruption

You spewed German
ghost stories
by German-French tongue
Your th ou ghts
fragmented

by the silky touch
of cold
a kiss from abyss
to heart

And you, Mary!
Born the Modern Prometheus!

And what say you, maker!
Mot of the clay of monster
but the soul within!?!

A brilliant mind of prose
Imagination beyond the horror
you created that day

A literary monster itself!
No thing that dispose!

:: 08-21-2014 ::


LAST MEAL

LAST MEAL

THOSE with smaller mouths
have many words
a greater heart in throat
Thunderbird!

My voice — I lost!
the Angels speak through
my soul…
and my ears — deaf!

God tastes my life!
and makes the meal
of my last dinner…
a gourmet meal of love!

:: 08-16-2014 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – LXXXIV (THIRTEEN STEPS)

My wooden staircase creaks
[a heart broken by feet]
and weeks the measure — my neck
What month long that noose stretched!
A hooded man in black
  shared a joke — the pun a trapdoor
I fell —
        |
        |
    _________
    |       |

      
      for the line
a broken neck upon
   a heart string
    
        D
       R
        0
       P

:: 07-11-2014 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – XCIX – FEATHERS & PENNIES

I followed a
       f
        a
         l
        l
       i
        n
          g
feather
       to the ground
along the twist
    -ing-twirl
    -ing
>dizzy<
       | path |

I found a penny
which held no thoughts
together the feather
and copper bone
fell upon an anvil
cloud of striking stone

:: 08-05-2014 ::


UNDERSTANDING

The acquisition of understanding
also comes with a deep mourning,
knowledge is a double-edged sword

:: 08-15-2014 ::