where has that childish abandon flown to what corner has it tucked itself within whose arrogant ignorance mighty walls erected and fell beneath the pen faceless omnipotence god of fact fiction whose word scarred paper hearts bleeding ink upon the page in whose eye every image was wonder not closed to mysteries ears closed to…
Tag: Nature
Fish Head
that fish smell of filth unwashed overripe body seasoned with pore salt
Slipping from View
perhaps it’s best we stop here, parting ways at the crossroads we stood too long beside. we know the adage: how gold never stays. surely, far greater loves than ours have died. we bear the gaunt trappings of yesteryear, ghostly figures shambling in plushy flesh, driven on by stark loneliness and fear. pitiful beings: the…
Detox/Natural Healing – A Chueh-Chu
blanketed in starless night, upon the dew-doused grass, he sleeps without a care beneath sugar scented maple trees. no greater comfort is there, than that which is wild and free; which unburdens the heart and soul, which long years made heavy.
Beating Feet Down the Eightfold Path
the four noble truths set me down the eightfold path budding dharma bum
Sign Here and Never Mind the Fine Print
will this be what remains of me: the hours worked, certificates gained, events attended? will this be the face, reflected in the gallery of eyes, that never saw me as i was? will this be the voice still reverberating, writhing on airwaves, spouting scripted speech spuriously? will this be the book, writing on the pages…
The Soul of the Moment – A Quintilla
the soul of the moment, buried ‘neath the rust of moments that passed like smoke, wistfully waning. cast to grey tides, swallowed ‘neath, carried listlessly out to oceans vast.
Peepshow From a Peephole – A Huitan
one can never be too sure of these things, meaning matters of men and their secrets. who knows what dread a friendly word may bring? the snare is in plain view, though few seek it. sleeping dogs may lie, but a man, he sits, waiting to descend when your back is turned, and test if…
As Sweet as it Gets – A Mistress Bradstreet Stanza
extinguishing with the slow-rising sun: one by one, street lamps fading, turning cold. snow, great hoary spirals, swept cross tattered roofs. frozen folds layering the lofty, languid treeline: rows of imposing black oak and red pine. crueler than can be told. pastry landscape, a powder sugar dusted bun.
An Open Field – A Haiku
i often picture myself, alone in a field swaying in the wind.
Piecework Prose 