It’s that season of mists again.
The season of damp decay,
of naked trees,
of fallen leaves
ready to be walked through,
kicked up,… Read More
by John Grey
You are everywhere, no question.
That’s your face high up in the pine tree.
Those are your legs moving through the fog,
your arms… Read More
Somewhere between a mellow wish
and an aborted memory rested a place
where small words did not matter
silence used its jagged teeth to… Read More I am only passing along what works
how the body misses its moment
you open onto this
that love is never who
but… Read More In this ever-changing world, it becomes more and more difficult to sift through events and recognize what is truly relevant. Poet Gary Beck once again… Read More Our own words
Or discomforting lack of them
Slices like Ice-Age cold;
Makes short shrift of our intent.
We watch the black blood drip inexorably… Read More “I’m late,
I’m late again”,
said the White Rabbit
staring at his pocket watch
He turned the minute hand back a little
and… Read More The Hellhounds are breathing fire tonight.
Watching all they are burning.
Lighting up the dark skylight.
Their snarls grow as they prepare to fight.
The… Read More Blood is how i rocked
and rolled my cigarettes
at the table
we stuck pencil lead in light sockets
and rolled dice for dinner drinks… Read More
Simple Simon had a voice
It lay on the ground
Hissing against the taut earth
And the tromps of the foot… Read More