Category: Writing
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building blocks
You are building blocks, my son. High and even hard to see where it reaches puff of clouds. You are looking far -far beyond that silver sparkle when the jumping fish applauds. I have you one more year. Carried in my heart with crown, scepter, cape and much more gear. I celebrate you with no…
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Prufrock’s Peach
Recently I read a book in which a pastor asks her congregants their #1 most frequent thoughts about themselves. People wrote these thoughts on sticky notes and posted them to a giant board inside the church. Thoughts like, “I am not enough,” and “I won’t be okay until I lose weight.” If we’re honest, as…
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Flyer Poem #150: Verbal First Draft
Should have said it anyway. Should have traveled the road not yet taken. Should have gone to the spirit of the stairway. Should have had the decency to listen. Now, the pale ice caps have liquefied to the bottom of the river of grandeur. The heat wave has frozen over as a new age hell.…
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Flyer Poem #79
The suburban oculus, keeping the metropolis to itself. The outdoor cathedral’s eye sees you all. Gargoyles, stone-faced about life, stare off into the brink of the city. They have no discussion value, so why would speech be necessary? Awkward silence at its finest, but the stones break it each time.
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Giorgi
I do not extinguish the candle of the moment. The moment is not blue at all. Opinion and reconciliation my thesis is light blue. Come to me with frost from behind, the star closed her eyes from the steam, the most important of the trembling guards, my century or a half. In pain and doubt,…
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Flyer Poem #128: North
I felt your sarcasm in Cook County. Into this world, I land on the ceiling. Born in the heights of Arlington and raised in the culture of Wheeling. Discovered and connected, forever part of this Midwest city. Chicago, baby: my drug, my love affair. Redesigned and resurrected, a whole new man with none of the…
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Flyer Poem #74
Spirit lady, you are now a mental maybe. Hard to shake off the tribal dance of heartbreak. A hall face, a yearbook picture, forever wandering into the ether that we all fear the most. She is the unknown, but we are unknowing of her next critical move.
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Blank Verse for the Intertwined
I found them just before the killing frost. In the garden, with my rake, I uncovered 3 roots, interwoven. But the roots opened their eyes and had in their faces the light- shy look of old women—like root grannies. Holding them, I felt stirring or quickening. They made whispery sounds, a moth and milk-…
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Dog Days
It’s a sullen spring morning in Southern California. The gray atmosphere sticks to everything in the living room– the sofas, the mounted tv, the tall bookcase, the record player. It’s spring in Southern California not the one with beaches for blocks and congested freeways weaving skyscrapers, coughing up cars from one exit to another. No,…
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Timber
We split like firewood; I’ve seen it in movies. One long thwack and we were clear of each other, clean. I never thought I could feel so splintered. You fueled a lot of my fire. Not with, dare I say, wilderness survival in mind, but with gallons of unleaded gasoline, all tipped over, pouring…
