original poetry, once a day
we positioned ourselves in another waiting room a stack of magazines on a chair a book with a magic marker that would reveal puzzle answers my contribution but I'd lost interest. I'd found myself back towards a quiet television examining the walls The hung art was dull enough that the groves in an exposed brick …
you know one of the first things I remember is sitting in the shady part of the lower bowl of Tiger Stadium behind the catcher looking out through netting you said that the man at bat was big said he was good so I believed you I remembered the cards I'd been given collecting people's …
we had so little to say to one another in the beginning we'd posture even force energy hold each other's gaze for whatever that meant we had moments we could argue brought us together and like any give-and-take moments that left us apart but there hasn't been anything there not for a while now we …
a bag in the backyard contained the hopes and memories of twenty some years in a way I could not then understand sweet summer evening air playing in the shade of a pear tree with hornet's near when i found it in an old garden i did not run held the memories in my hands …
house lights dim we hang in the rafters watching the thing from afar our breath louder than we ever remember hearing it lights go up a birth a dance figures crawling across hands searching wooden planks sanded into form always fitting moment after moment lights dim the crowd around us whispering with only a few …
we were holding on to one another hoping that at the point of impact (crisis averted) we'd have just gone through the actions leaves falling in the spring having made it this far pushed out by the next wave photosynthesis pushing out the dead with a handshake eventually though they clung together the end was …
about beautiful places, masking concern with a change in topics
the thoughts of an end were uncomfortable uncompromising and unavoidable not a death not a finality just a point on a mutual line shared by many a meteor falling from the heavens or from the sky or from the cosmos and that's what we would argue about the semantics of the thing the finality of …
the light at the end of time hangs without sound; a violent ending
the line that is blurred the moments the time that escape that is wished for and granted is that worth crossing wirth identifying worth living and she crosses her fingers holds her breath before the crucial moments and when she can release she is fine and words spill from her and in her mind she …
