ghosted west to the sea and I missed my off ramp like most of the others who prayed to the fire gods oh please, not me, and I saw from a distance the mean residue of burnt chaparral and blistered black trees, the carports and cribs of suburban tribes who fled with heads down from… Continue reading A Column of Smoke
I can’t read his words, but because of the way they justify left and stagger at right I think that the stranger I see every morning at Starbucks might be a poet like me. This much I know from two tables away: He doesn't seem to measure the meter with fingers that count on the… Continue reading A Partner in Poetry?
Your eye's an aperture to the unnamed and far away from its orphaned twin, so what should I choose to receive my appeal— the fathomless one, or the one on the left? Never mind. Daylight has fled like minnows, the white of your eye is a gibbous moon that’s taking in the foolishness of… Continue reading To the Whale That Swims Beside Me