Poem 20151128

bright-burning, but not enough
to drive out the night

her bared skin reveals stripes
scars made by other hands

where she was seamed together
assembled by who knows what hands

not mine is all i know

there will be fire yet, oh yes
and there was blood, for certain

and lost feathers from wings refusing
to be broken. freedom and will and safety

one she wants, the other she has
the last a consideration

you may pick two, of course

these crepuscular woods fill
with birdsong and the sound of flight

the ringing of an anvil
delight and tears

Poet 20151128

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

–William Blake,
from Auguries of Innocence

Today is William Blake’s birthday. He is one of my favorite poets, one I still turn to when I want to see how someone forcefully made the world into a place habitable for himself.

Poem 20151127

all lean muscle and taut nerves
something there in the trembling
in the hand
in the clenching
of the stomach
of the small fibrous tangle
open and expand and explode
lower your lids like sunset

Poem 20151126

everything can use a little editing
a gentle stroke of the pen
to make
what does come out
what should come out

–wait, i didn’t mean that–

would never be uttered again
because everything would be composed
pored over
marked up
submitted as galleys
and approved
before the words pass
carrying less weight
perhaps for the extended process

conversations would stretch
for days
and saying i love you
would take from the first glimpse
of morning sunlight
to when the full moon sinks below
the horizon

Poem 20151125b

give thanks before you are asked
before the request passes through the lips
before the thanks seems less like
gratitude than like a duty

give thanks for her smile and soft skin
and for the tenderness of her hands
for the curve of her neck
and the way the light catches her eyes

give thanks for hearing laughter once again
and for the corners of her mouth upturned
and for the scent of her when you embrace
and for how she lingers in your mind

Poem 20151124

there are gray clouds
of a stormy nature

and they loom
above the horizon

proudly displaying a gap
between heaven and earth

all about separation
things not coming together

division is the natural

the firmament above
from the firmament below

when the rain falls

Poem 20151123

the cell vibrates
the wall pinching
from an enzymatic signal

strands of identical
feelings and caresses
split down the middle

fingers barely touching
as they are pulled apart
by clockwork

and the division
is the first time we ask
is this a good thing

Post 20151122

So weird.

I was just doing some random searching through my site and happened to look at the archive.

I have had this blog for ten years, but did nothing significant with it until last year.

In fact, the first poem I wrote for this blog is dated 20141122, one year ago today.

That’s an odd sense of nostalgia for me. Here’s how things break down, post wise.

Most Used Categories

Almost four hundred poem, and I haven’t posted yet today. I’m pretty sure┬ámost of them aren’t very good. But every now and then, one sneaks in.

Thanks to everyone who comes by to read these, and thanks to everyone who inspires me to be a better writer, poet, and human being.