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BLIND-SIDED 1 The humid night air clung to Julio's skin as he and Marco stepped off the bus near campus, laughter trailing behind them like the smell of esquites from the street vendor across the road. The political rally had been noisy and full of energy - and…
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A glance—I dissolved completely.
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This poem begins my poetry collection. It is about the pain and suffering I experienced when I had an attack of two pulmonary embolisms, one in the right lung, one in the left. This nearly killed me. I lived with the pain in my lungs whenever I took a bre
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All that loves green produces green.
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An eye patch waits aslant his passenger seat.
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Because I'm old and this is the Way I Do Things now...
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the only thing that impresses me now
is the state of my inebriation
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The wind comes up relentless
in the afternoon
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And aren't we are so then so rarely The hero in another's story When we want to be. And why are we so always Rounding stories on the heroes Who don't want to be? And aren't we are so then are so rarely Heroes in each others' …
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The blue bird tapped at my window and pecked my crumbs. I talked to him as to a small person about the things of life, of flowers, of trees and the sky. Even at times pretending he was erudite, I questioned him about evolution and extinction. He looked at me as if he…
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I was sitting on the steps in the entryway to our apartment building taking off my running shoes when I spotted a paperclip on the floor. I assumed it had fallen from the mail that my wife had just taken from our mailbox. Once my shoes were removed, I went down to pick…
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Damn, the light turned
green
on me.
Wasn't ready.
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Staring at my $10 All Star Breakfast with extra bacon
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Let it rage.
I shall not suppress you.
Let your rage speak to you of the sorrow it hides,
until your sadness swallows you whole.
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A Praying Mantis
clover to bright emerald green
landed on my sleeve
and lingered as I worked
in my hay field.
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Say say say say say say says our I-I-I-me tunes:
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Figures are a strip tease.
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I killed it.
Didn't even relocate it back to its outdoor home, as I had work to do.
This is being human.
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Meagan rides the subway with perfect lips and deep thoughts, looking moody out the smudged window like an actress in a Sofia Coppola film.
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Between chapters, he trained my dog, Buster. He taught him to fetch bottle caps, roll over for no reason, and to play dead whenever someone raised their voice
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burning for You, caught in between, yearning to remain completely wrapped around Your finger, feeling panoramic, and this alive.
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Sometimes words are carved in stone, but you won't find these in this poem
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“Time to check out,” I tell myself, looking at sailboats and surfers from the open window of my hotel room. I inhale minty incense and gaze down on a dark-skinned woman in a sombrero beneath towering palm trees. Laid out before her on a folding table ar
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The man with the truncheon emerged at the monorail car's forward connecting doorway. One moment the space was vacant, a faux metal canvas for the dazzling sunlight streaming through a grime-encrusted window. When next Theseus Harrow looked up from his seat the dark-suited…
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It's house has seen every day and every night
From its windows stars are born and die
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I walked into a novel and sat down on a rock. The language was distressed and full of cyclones and swells. I could smell embalming fluid and folklore. Everywhere I went there were doorknobs, escalators, and clocks. Objects of all genre overflowing with prose. I stood at …
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