making poetry
you are making food i’m making poetry small sandwiches that people won’t have to choke down dreams condensed into language and given wings in the mind’s eye of yourself and the hearts of others it is a gift to you both butterfly…
Tag: pome
fires
setting fires in the hearts of liars who wish to hear echoes of themselves they put their morals on shelves and cover their mirrors and plug their ears as someone pours coals on their fears hatred is fear turned outward the thing…
those legendary poets
the poets that we think we are are drinking at some legendary bar putting some whiskey-sponsored curse into a form of doggerel verse later on we’ll says it could have been worse but still want to slam into reverse epilogue in balloon…
cancer movies
i am not in denial of cancer movies if they are dressed in comedy even in drama but they are not easy to watch because i’ve lived in the truth but then i remember humour finds you even in the shadows if…
stopped and started so soon
you hit some kind of impasse and there’s temptation to be crass instead get off your ass and recognise the glass as neither half empty or half full but a mirror, temporarily dull you get up and bring a renewed vigour the…
to knock them open
i slip my tongue into your mouth to taste your words a language that is needed to lift your heart and the music carries all of us high over the land to crash on opposite shores running between closing doors to knock…
half a smile ago
half a smile ago i was this kind of person half a mile ago we saw the situation worsen a bathroom tile ago we were showering off the dirt of the day into the trough do you know where you are? if…
electronic distance
distanced faces i’m an electronic island how do i brand myself? make the beacon compelling? strand people on the rocks? becoming a hook rolling out a line trying to bait with something other than myself so many floating dreams trying to codify…
not miles away
sucking on a popsicle acting like i’m kane in kung fu walking the ghost town where sitting down earns you stares fuck the never theres fuck the half awares i’m not depending on traffic lights i’m not waiting on hard shoulders i’m…
are fur note
half a note yesterday passed to a teacher who appeared in a zen moment that said you are ready i’m running a kerouac road with the engine howling like ginsberg where it terminates an orchid blooming in liquid nitrogen fog turning after…