poetry

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Gray river turns - shoosh - Brown sparrows take flight, gracing the opposite bank. For every wonder - Soft leaf, purple flower, rain -...

When I was young, I was a framework of you Waiting to be molded into someone like you, ten degrees rotated. You and your elegance, you...

There rose a simple clumping In the center of a field That was destined for a mowing For hay that it would yield The flower bloomed in...

The words of our beloved Ray never seem to fade from the minds of those who at one time or another fell in love with Kerouac’s motivated,...

Instead of screaming I swallow them My hard warrior words: And down my throat they fall, stabbing wildly Grabbing for a catch Kicking,...

May, the echo of a will Resignation a soft vacation an exhale May the inhale never come

Allen Ginsberg’s Lament, Kaddish — anaphora governs, begging time to hold still, to stop its procreant urge forward, just long enough for...

Craven was drunk and tried To be naked. The pots on the walls Gleamed with ink and every- Body dipped their quills. There was A writing...

You, you who sleep With flowers on your eyes − You who twist and call for the light Early in the morning, as your legs Frantically...

Brooklyn's morning light is Pale as a virgin and Bites me before I wake Bitterly - and still trapped In silent running dreams I paw at...