Category: Poetry

At the Coffee Shop One Afternoon

  When the man in the hat ordered a beer from the high school barista at the coffee shop, I politely declined the impulse to stare; him, in his funky, retro cowboy-hat and single, dangling hoop earring ordering a beer from the kid behind the espresso machine who giggled. Poor kid. I wondered which was redder: the lad’s salty cheeks or the man’s full-body … Read More At the Coffee Shop One Afternoon

Poetry in the Rough

  Brazen chipped callous lines side of left toe, stretches, white, as I stretch wide— toe pockets marked with shadows echo tide pools and wave drops pitter sand from the mat of the car. Chalk elbows graze along the grey window sill, dragging slip lines of dust mites bits of me I haven’t missed.

+

Excuses

  He walked high and loose noteworthy jingles in his gait; the last was a pocket of change from the corner shop and the first the cataracts we politely ignored.

The Sands Tell Tales

  The sands tell tales of arduous tracks of long, lumbering earthy strides; there are those before me who have pressed the sand with leaden burdens and dragging hearts, the prints of souls unsatisfied. Then there are

Shell Theory

  My praise is but the catacombs of waves the stuff of ant children and young sunflowers. Waves speak quieter than I, and go much further. I wave, the whole earth grows— how my arrogance is so!

+

Wild Man of Swaziland

  Buck-toothed and dreadlocked the wild man of Swaziland plunged sugared fingers into a bowl of cheesy potatoes. He shifted his restless feet for a firmer perch against the mountain scree, and spat out a hunk of chicken poo. Plump beetles scampered around his hairy ankles looking frazzled to existence; the wild man took but peripheral notice his attention otherwise committed to thick fingered … Read More Wild Man of Swaziland

Celestial Gala

  Cosmic harmony dances upon toes, & the sun which sweeps arm hairs to spring bouquet, (so fit for a gala) keeps time.

+

A Case for Willfulness

The sea— at the lip of which I sink, slow silly my toes in sucking black sand perch the heavy surf swell tunneling past my ankles –still hasn’t made up its mind.

To Furnish in Reverse

  I rearrange the furniture of my mind. So much so that the very chamber ceases to be furnished— perfection. Empty headed perfection, level in every absolute way; I can cartwheel and headstand without worry– an unfurnished apartment lifestyle suits me amicably.

+

Black Bird

  The black bird on a black tree sprouting black leaves whistles at me; me, in my blended sweater wooden bench my skin dipped caramel and the glint of inside lamplight against my watch face.

That man, there

  the one at the corner table with a steady drip, drip, drip of the rain gutter run off on the vinyl table which splashes against his wristwatch, even I can see the water drops on his wristwatch even I, from my middle table, my table safe under the wide awning, safe from the refuse of rain that pads the streets with puddles that … Read More That man, there

+

A Walk on the Beach in the Evening

  Sun shades ripple over black ant dunes and I, cast, with earth toes spread uneven relaxed am tall and small and quiet. My hair, golden unkept electric the rogue wind calls my soul responds.