What is it he sees in you? Did he hear the lilting ripples Of your lovely voice And conjure up an image, Revving rapture? Did he break free from age’s bounds And see the panorama of your being Embracing decades, mellowing, maturing Yet also conjuring up The wellsprings of a youthful prime? Could you slough […]
Is He into your Soul? Read More »
I found this poem washed out along the shorelines of a drunken stupor, Drowning at the bottom of my heart and flushed out with my 4th shot of whiskey. Those that know me, KNOW this minor, yet IMPORTANT, fact. I am a lightweight; And I am pretty sure I told the bartender I loved him.
I shift from one scene to the next until a beam of light paints the wall, signaling unfinished business. I rise, stiff and uncertain, remembering when waking life was an extension of the dream.
We crawl from the wreck into a ditch where the moon’s all afuzz with mold. Shrapnel under my shin. The cold descending. Finally smells like wet leaves and movie popcorn, my sister says, skull open. On first whiff, I get the oiled heat, the smoke, the reeking vomit on my shirt. I don’t get my movie popcorn. My
Since 1903, Emma Lazarus’ poem “The New Colossus” has been displayed inside the Statue of Liberty. My generation was raised to be proud that our country welcomed tired, poor, huddled masses to our shores. We were required to commit the poem to memory, as a kind of summary of what America meant. In case it
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Old dice rolling and tumbling as they enter a casino, the forgotten habits and gumshoe tricks come right back as social networking whores of cheap commerce, perfume, and liquor. A game is to be played. That is, a game must be played. For those antics have purpose, no trickery here. You can still beat the
The Flip of a Card Read More »