1...2...3...roll 1...2...3...roll 1...2...3...roll 1...2 and 3 The caisson lumbers with iron regret as drums pound a permanent print in the grey ground of so many minds. An imprint worn like vaccine scars. Three measures march in perfect time. The fourth rebels-- the story it tells!-- with the horrible half-beat of order upended. A beat unstable,… Continue reading Imprint Flashback: The Funeral Drums, JFK, 11/25/63
Month: August 2018
A Young Girl’s Dimple
Beneath her peachy skin, she hides it well, and only on one cheek is it revealed: her dimple—a tiny silver bell that trills in high C when she feels a tremolo of mischief touch her lips, the pucker of a tart joke’s taste, the tingle of her own deliciousness. Until then, the dimple hides,… Continue reading A Young Girl’s Dimple
A Map to the Soul
My poems are a map to my soul— a twisting road to thoughts undiscovered. With each word I write, each truth uncovered, I stumble a bit closer to the whole. I embark each day, not knowing where— just following the road is all that matters. Sometimes I'm saving elephants, or flowers, or revealing fears I… Continue reading A Map to the Soul
Absence
The air lost weight today just after the saws took down the giant tree. The ample bosom of leaves, the fullness of bird song and gravity of shade are pulp with the grinding. A century of habitat, a poet's gentle bower, fed to the waiting dragon's jaws. Five men and one truck and less than… Continue reading Absence