top of page

On The Edge Of A Field


A line of yellow maples crack

Spilling branches on

Late autumn wheat.

This is the sound of

Something Ending.

This is the sound of

Being Alone.

Evening.

In Majesty approaches.

Listen.

Be still.

There are owls in the trees.

A Barn and a Grey.

You can hear them.

But not see them.

The sheltering dark.

Moments away.


First Published by The Orchards Poetry Journal

Speed Dating At The Kama Sutra Rest Home And Bar

Yoga Class. Tights. Ass. Glad We Got Our Senior Pass. (Glad We Brought Some Extra Cash) Namaste You Stunning Thing. Let Me See Your Luscious Bling. Let Me Be Your Silver Fox. Your Downward Dog’s A Par

Attic

Cold. Rotted Planks. Flanked By Piles Of Toys Armed With Dolls. Dead Eyes Smiling. Showing Teeth. Not Showing. What Lies Beneath. Sweat. Pulse. Sharp Smell Of Fear. The Dark Winter Night. The Rope Whe

The Boom Boom Room

There’s A Room In The Back. It’s The One That Prints Jack. The One That’s Front Loaded. The One Sugar Coated. Take The Fork In The Road. Take Your Pain A La Mode. Take Your Cue From Your Gods. Get Wha

Bình luận


bottom of page