Tag Archives: poem

The Monk That Got Down

Posted on July 16, 2018 by

Today was strange. The sweet, quiet, solemn, solitary monk who lives in the cork-lined antechamber inside me was dancing. This is not something I have ever seen him do. I went to visit him, expecting the usual: him hunched over … Continue reading →

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Opiate

Posted on July 15, 2018 by

To touch loneliness, unabated, the barest cherish, play of smile running softly on meant fingers, to keep yourself company, all that lovely sweet nothingness, gauged in lofty opiate whispers, trailing, then silence.

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Honeycomb

Posted on July 14, 2018 by

The deep bass drum of laughter, a resounding prayer, no more forgetting who I am, the well of memory has been stirred, and my bones, in turn, have been dared to splinter, the cracks between worlds, widening, inviting me to … Continue reading →

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Prayer

Posted on July 13, 2018 by

Thank you, is the simplest and most profound prayer I know, borne along on a sea of breath, it returns to itself, the divinest echo from God’s muse to my lips.

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Lovesworn

Posted on July 12, 2018 by

If I could grow my arms the length of God I’d hug the entire world until a cosmic vessel went bust and bled light to no end.

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Wax

Posted on July 12, 2018 by

Her lips, in kissing, raspberry wax sealing notes, for heart’s safekeeping.

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Level

Posted on July 12, 2018 by

Girl, I will write you for a long, seething bask, Light seeks its own level.

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Foam

Posted on July 12, 2018 by

Collect her broken bones, her sea-washed cortege, and sentences of charged glimmer, and pay close reverence to where the slow, reedy breath of the pearl steams the shell of its host, and when the time is right, just right, kiss … Continue reading →

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Peony

Posted on July 12, 2018 by

The peony came at exactly the right time– The garden smiled, blushed.    

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Jack Kerouac

Posted on June 29, 2018 by

When I was a young man, a budding scribe eager to blossom white fire, and scabbed lotuses, you meant the world to me. You exposed me to velocity bop and piggyback rhythms, to applepie windowsill jazz and summerlight porchswings, to … Continue reading →

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