Category: Uncategorized
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Utopian Fragments Indeed
I don’t have to wonder much bout the answer to life’s questions or the ones that haunt me in my head. That’s because all the answers have been told to me in detail as a result of Dhyan’s (Guy Traiber) new book, “The Zen Pocket Book of Irrelevant Answers.” As of today, I have everything…
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Shell on the Beach
I’m not flashy I’m broken in pieces Buried and lost Buried and found By the softbodied me On a crowded beach With no relevance Aside from being a part of my whole life My words are not flashy. They are broken but they are mine.
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Three Stars
His passing meant he had the last word And I fire on my tongue, Love and resentment’s frazzled flavor Offering more sizzle than succulence. It was a dish best served cold.
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Post-prayer
If There were words to say or salvage Everything I’m almost positive I would have said them already Unless I truly hated you In silence Amen.
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Raspberries
The diagnosis is raspberries or blueberries or mulberries berries of the brain harmless nothings sweet somethings berries bleeding dusk and then dirt in your eyes dirt in your lungs dirt from above homegrown berries reborn in a field shared by your kin and country
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for the newly diagnosed
“It’s not like I’m going to die,” said no hypochondriac ever in the history of the world. I am an expert hypochondriac, or so I say. I make a good game of diagnosing people with random, non-fatal ailments as a way to produce more good humor in the world. I would never tell you that…
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adjectives rarely do justice
Pretty ye gleam, hard diamond I smile at you Bitterly aware That my awareness is irrelevant And unnecessary Prettiness hardly matters when you shine.
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Where to Submit?
Can you, dear readers, give me some suggestions for sending my stuff for consideration in journals, ‘zines…wherever? I need to try to prove I’m good enough to be published somewheres.
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Salt
The sky is congested No remedy, no over-the-counter The salt of my tears will have to do Don’t look up, yonder sky Toward the horizon, aye, flegm of ice and rain do form The salt of my tears will have to do The light upon us o’er We lie beneath the no-shelter tree, dead and…
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