Poetry

down in Sunburn, Carolina I hadn’t seen him in years tho he wasn’t much changed his skin fitting a bit more loosely these days he’d a bit less hair, to shelter his thoughts still, caution stalked his words a memory of notions, become daggers we spoke of old times father and son we spoke of […]

The black man in the straw hat held his beloved burgundy pride tucked and folded in his breast pocket. “Good morning.” he said, passing by. “Good morning.” I said, nodding in reply. “There’s a man who believes in something.” I told the boy. Leather heels clicked a dimming rhythm as he took his belief with […]

a two AM half-moon glared bright as full dusting the dulled obsidian with the crushed bones of the day’s wither I’d been reading poetry– all evening into the deep of night’s squalor one poem, after another, and another many of the writers, greatly acclaimed “How can you do that for so long?” “I’m looking for […]

My thoughts, this day, betray me. Can it be– that hope only endures for the duration of an embrace? Faith, the frightened child which it is, the sullen runaway, huddled, amidst the litter of abandon, shivers in cold loneliness. A half-smoked cigarette, found, like death’s treasure, dangles, quivering in wait between her lips, as she […]

By heralding horn, within fable’s adorn, borne drifting in tales, the myth of the poet, exhumed, is exhaled. While poets hold the hand of god, defiled, we lesser beasts feast on pieced facade. Cloaked in golden rolls of smoke, rhymes, baroque, elope within covetous words bespoke. Imposters, marauders, lead royal maidens to spoil’s slaughter. Each, […]

Bitterness, hope’s cold remains, sees only malice, returning the same. Anger, is but sorrow with thorns, tears turned to ice, as sadness had warned. As an aside, I saw a post the other day which said that art, in its various forms, is hope. Sage words, and I wish I could remember who to credit. […]

Sunrise ignites the trees, gifting amber warmth to the chosen side, as long shadows creep away into the exile of winter’s disgrace, aye– reaching, dark fingers clawing across the earth’s circumference, aching to feel the sun’s love again. That hand once held– has been severed, and cast out. Lonely darkness forsaken, the mad tyrant, misconceived, […]

This morning, without thinking, I took my son’s hand, gently placing a kiss into his palm, as I do with you. I thought upon what it might mean. It is a promise– to love, always, to love completely. I am given.