poetry

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I watch you working the body with a boxer’s predatory rhythm, ravaging that tin box like werewolf a fairytale maid, …

She took her things that lined the shelves, they left holes in the dust like buckshot in a stag’s flank. …

You cling to my finger like a newborn.The same weight that clogged your engines and draggedyou down to drown now …

By the seathe urge to screamdrains awaylike the tidefrom the rockpools. Of courseit will return againbut for now you can …

Machines liftyour hulking massweightless, O wingless angel slityou giveand give and give. You area huge and creakingoaken tankof red grape …

I know what you’re thinking. Poetry? What a goddamn snoozefest. You’re not wrong, but you’re in the right place . …

I knew it was wrong but the allure in the starling sky that spring evening was overpowering – the same …

Mother’s Day

You there swan-like, blonde, bowed at the neck knelt drawing in charcoal on the dusty garage floor with great swathes …

When all seems hopeless and the wind howls its lonely song and the ocean, once a friend, burns white each …

And here’s my old shirt, blue and green with busted holes two, three, no, four buttons blown away – bounced …

The leather brands the hands when you’re pleading with the reins atop a rush of boiling black your years thunder …

How many of us are going to slip out of here like oily eggs onto breakfast plate without a whimper, …