Tag Archives: Poetry

Past Me, Through Me, Anywhere But At Me

It’s hard to write when you’re people. Prose, anyway. Poetry is easier. Poetry isn’t written by people, not in the way that matters. Poetry is written by ghosts. Poetry comes from hollow voices without faces, speaking secrets of the wind. … Continue reading

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Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Maybe I Wasn’t Trying To Write A Poem, Okay?!

The snow goes As the snow does (Does doesn’t rhyme) The snow does, that is to say, the female counterparts to snow bucks Make footprints all along the way While I get up and resume (Resume doesn’t rhyme) Resume, that … Continue reading

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Posted in Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Every Word Is True

Let me tell you a story Every word is true. I was on the bus, riding a third-class ticket to nowhere For a meeting with nobodies To discuss the declining value of our nothings When I saw her, across the … Continue reading

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Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Freewriting #1, A Concerto In The Key Of Q

Sometimes I need to say something And not like I have something I need to say, some burning churning turning on the tongue fighting to get out, biting to get out, kicking and screaming for voice in the open and … Continue reading

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Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Silly Jesus

Healing the blind? Silly Jesus, we’ve got glasses, contacts, Lasik, and they’re putting the finishing touches On those brand new prosthetic eyes. To be honest, that whole mud and spit thing’s a little gross. Feeding the 5000? Silly Jesus, we’ve … Continue reading

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Posted in God, Poetry, Religion | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Wonderful Not To Know

So wonderful not to know For every ripple, burble, flash, bounce, zap, squeak, pop, and grin To fill a mind with fascination The first strange recognition of alien life Looking out through bulbous eyes down low to the sidewalk Days … Continue reading

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Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Get Out Of Your Head

“Get out of your head,” they say Like it’s a simple matter of opening the door and stepping Outside The mind is a home for them Its walls familiar and furniture comfortably molded to the imprints of their behinds But … Continue reading

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Posted in Poetry, Psychology | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment