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Tag: Poetry

  • Cold Mother II

    Cold Mother II

    In Januarycold winds blew in cold baby, eyes like minea heart murmured, an objection that soonleft no trace I dip my toes infrigid sighing frozen seasjust beyond the topazthere is darkness I mistakedichotomies for choicesI segregateone thing from the other I prefera life lived bleeding into and out ofdrafty spacesthings without names Januarycold mothers with…

  • Lost Blossom

    There was a time when you mattered The last bloom On the Rose of Sharon Of The Season In which your spirit did not survive Another fall Falls near As the sky Or a petal from a poppy Or a child of God Did you really believe that? That there was a time when it…

  • Knowing the Dead

    In a sleep, the wound wept its tears Bloodshed Seeped from itself without knowing But I knew I saw your death a million times before you did But then you said In a sleep, all around was death, death, dea th You knew bloodshed Wept for us both before I ever did

  • vox poetica, baby

    I was featured on Annmarie Lockhart’s fantabulous poetry site, vox poetica, yesteray. http://poemblog.voxpoetica.com/ (a divination was the poem). Thanks, Annmarie for the shout out. 🙂

  • Lost Skin

    There is nothing quite as uniquely satisfying as a good book. A book of the soul, writing that just clicks with some inherent voice in your head. You won’t find me talking about authors’ love sonnets and classics, reciting flowing language that sags and droops like the lost, loose skin that falls in defeat when…

  • LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD, DEAR READERS

  • Streamers

    caught up in the stream of things the streamers I made as a 10-year-old still hanging from the rec room ceiling where my father tacked them a long ago place never touched and now a new place that takes me back to when I was 21 and how much I couldn’t enjoy my life then

  • AT LONG LAST – DISAPPOINTMENT

    The long-awaited video debut of MedicatedLady and Bryan Borland – together: *The poem read by MedicatedLady in the video is “Disappointment” by Mike Topp.

  • seven inches

    seven inches me got last night seven inches and a slight chip more old man winter speaks me tells ‘im to shut it me clutches his neck and throws him all asea seven inches last night me thinks I shall have seven more tonight

  • Beneath the Bark: The Rooting of Uncle Tree

    Over the course of the last two weeks or so, I have had the pleasure of being involved in a fantastic discussion about writing and living well. As interviews go, this one offers insight and sincerity, and I hope you, dear reader, appreciate the self-depricating wisdom of our very own Uncle Tree. #1. What made…