Category: Poetry
-
Eric
reflected in the glass like a slow confession. I sat just under the light. I was on my way to Santa Monica tomorrowto sit in on a meeting. I remembered meeting Ericbefore an Asia concert—or was it Rainbow. He was making a ticket for the concertout of cardboard paper. I wasn’t an alcoholic, just yet.…
-
Priest
I was, she said as she came around the corner of the house. I was about to tell you, she continued, as the sun shone in the front picture windows of the home. Mom won’t be home until August. The lights across the street reflected green yellow and red in the picture window. I said…
-
Reason
I believe the mountains praise the ocean. And that the Ocean praises the Sea. I believe that the Soul dreams, and that the Evening cries for more days in the arms of someone you can find to love. And without the someone. I wouldn’t know. And I believe the Oceans praise the Mountains created so…
-
Clay
There was a moment when clay first opened the summer of green fields and oceans and star light. When the trespass of time on a moments silence touched the earth with resolution, alone. That is what time is. Alone. When a child becomes angry at the sun and the clouds and the rain streams across…
-
Certain
Steel rails along the concrete and glass.The green leaves from the branches rise.I was by the side of a brook oncesays the old man. In Michigan.The man sat alone and switched to French….Il y a donc là quelque chose qu’on peutbien entendre, grâce à ce qui m’a fait attendre, eh bien…The wind was a little…
