On the slow train from Cambridge
To Ely, I am sitting behind two Russians.
A couple, they are locked in conversation,
Oblivious to the fenland steppe outside,
The rain-steeped, raven-black earth,
This England in its midwinter rain.
I confess. I do believe in god. Not an all knowing
all powerful bearded old man on a throne in the sky.
No. No. My god is androgynous, sitting near me
In the coffee shop. Inconspicuous. Strong, but
flawed. With my god, I press my face to the sky.
And I feel the dri...
I have turned when tired or tight
to the twin who should be
ghosting in on my blind side,
disappearing like mist on a glass
sensing his heavy breath like we've
crossed a snowy field
leaving no footprints, like a perfect crime
when the house is quiet, I notice...
My mother and father made smoke in the kitchen
over hot pots and pans, over hot water and oil,
over time, over each other’s bellies. They danced
in front of the oven until fire shot from their feet;
showed us how love might look at the end of a long
$50,000 is a slice of life narrative, hovering between prose and poetry with a five-standalone-sentences per page format. Advertised as a long poem, it is a great book for poetry-lovers and haters alike as it is modest in its poetical techniqu...
We Gulp Down Minutes and Hours as If There Will Always be Seconds
I sat in French class gazing up at beautiful words
meaningless to me
sailing softly over my head
the teacher told me and another philistine
to leave the class
to find another
we walked down the corridor ...
opening the door
to let the dog out.
cold creeping inward
like a clammy hand
and bedclothes. last night
the first frost
fell like petals - I drove to work
looking at pictures of leaves.
all gone now.
then the daylight thaw
like autumn tossed int...