Category Archives: poem

A “double exposure” poem

Finger Pointing with Fire Ants(a double exposure)after Greg Williamson The way the classic sign painters did itHowever the message is readAs real paint, not a widgetNot black but allover redIn a can in a swirling movementColor functions as fire is … Continue reading

Posted in mockingbird poem | Tagged | Leave a comment

Writing Is Reading

The Wordsafter William Logan The question he could not have anticipated,why do you read a book you don’t like?short-circuited the patterns he’d formulated,stuck a stick through the spokes of his bike. What he’d considered a simple machine appeared to be the … Continue reading

Posted in mockingbird poem | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

blood and ashes

Two Men Standing (blood and ashes) There was a third man, a first man, a failed first, a forever failing first. You’ll find him in the blank space to my right, on that pedestal of dirty laundry. He’s gone, was … Continue reading

Posted in prose poem | Tagged , | Leave a comment

flying away

The Quitterfor Andrew When ears up in pricksyou lie your head downlike a filthy habitand can find no restit’s time to listento the giant sucking soundof tiny wingsto soften the blowsupon an arthammeredto death Oldly newalready fullalready readyoverworked musclesregain memoryby … Continue reading

Posted in poem | Leave a comment

Song of the Mock Turtles

From September 1st to December 31st of last year I kept a stuck tune diary, a journal of all of the sticky tunes that visited me, particularly tunes that I awoke with already playing in my head. Of the 122 … Continue reading

Posted in mockingbird poem, music essay, personal essay | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

A Song for Julia and Winston

If I could stretch my eyesWide enough to see I wouldn’t blame youI’d see you’ve set my paceOne paycheck away and farFrom a homeward slide Around and around like full moonsIn day’s full light we danceAcross a store of blindnessMy darling, … Continue reading

Posted in poem | Tagged , | Leave a comment

On Reading William Carlos Williams on Christmas Day

It’s Christmas and I don’t have to goIt’s Christmas and I have a place to stay Not writing but readingmy favorite thingPicking my waythrough the delicate mechanismsNot by the clockbut all day to lightly treadSo as not to tramplemy own … Continue reading

Posted in poem, poetry essay | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments