Tag Archives: poem

Tenor

The difference between I am here and I was here is delicately slight, and not really a matter of tense but rather one of plaited tenor and climate, in which degrees, separating our ghost from our dreams, keeps us shivering … Continue reading

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Found Blue

We do not enter the bluest hours, they come upon us, tender fugue and gallows silk, where we, in blatant trembling sheerness, are revealed to ourselves as the bated wisps between air and perish.

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The Writing Life

Sneak-peek into the process: I always write by hand, with my F-402 ballpoint pn (black ink), in one-subject spiral notebooks, the cheap kind that come in different colors (mostly I go with red, purple and yellow, occasionally blue or black, … Continue reading

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Shed

Eavesdropping, at dream’s edge, where memory pools to silver and risk seeks its own level, a new silence breathes like silk upon my fool’s fate to shed lightly, and cherish.

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How the Light Gets In

The information is wrong, or in drastic need of revision— Do not stay strong, but rather bless your broken softly, and dare to inherit strength by its supplest means and tenderest turns toward the unknown, calling.

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Losing my Religion

Religion of rain, I prayed to get wet, and then entered her slowly.

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You Are Your Own Best Sorcerer

By risk of wonder, magic teeming in the air— Claims, in thrall to dusk.    

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Transformation

There are times when it is necessary for the body to become its own cradle, a nest-fed rocking and grave trembling toward the loam of ceremony and siege, and while transformation isn’t easy, if you listen closely, tender ear to … Continue reading

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Starfucking

It was driving me crazy. I couldn’t stand the teasing anymore, the eternal seductiveness, so I fabled right through the roof and into the capacious night-sky to be with the stars, those luminous coquettes and avatars of celestial elegance, on … Continue reading

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Upstart Scarecrow

Spoken Word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright)

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