Oh September I found your brutal heart With its endless winds of an early winter. Oh how I hate you From that September of the fateful year of 2009 To all the Septembers until you and I meet once again Merry In an otherwise empty and indifferent room Where there are no score keepers With …
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It’s been more than a decade I’m still learning how to be still apprentice to myself Still learning that to argue takes you nowhere, just a deserted road of rambling words, thickets of verbiage Still learning that any narrative seems to have the theme of not there yet, developing as the character discovers he or…
In these digital landscapes we trickle and tickle with words etched in glowing cursor Sounds meet and merge in bound affinity spaces, one would hope packed always with friends Gathered around a literary cause, assembled by love of writ and lit, always submerged in the latest story Always drafting the next verse. The post Literary…
The front window-sills of houses In Noe Valley, San Francisco’s High-end suburb on the hill Above the Mission, Are galleries for Placards these days. Held fast to pane glass with Scotch Tape Are tack-board admonishments To neighbours unnerved by The continued march of Corona, Bearing words that soothe: EVERYTHING WILL BE OK. WE WILL SURVIVE….
Related Stories Hanging Loose Auction Go to Source Author: The Best American Poetry
When I grasp a hand full of bitterness Larded with profound frustration and spice it with some irascible anger I make myself a hazardous bomb. Splinters of injustice followed by shards of hatred will fiercely strike. Thousands of innocent victims shall be afflicted. A prevention is available for this kind of explosive It’s called ‘Tolerance’….
Feeling a Snack Coming On Maybe the best thing to compare it to Would be the old cowboy-and-Indian movies We used to endure on Friday night TV Or Saturday matinees, before Psycho hit. Indians whooping and chasing stagecoaches; A strong-but-vulnerable woman holding a rifle, Her face streaked with dirt, a white sleeve torn; Or a…
