Every day their breath brushes back and forth / like wind erosion over the etched inscriptions / that say our veterans are our heroes.
(poetry)
Category: Poetry
On our / walk the hound and I / noted something fecund.
(poetry)
What are the whereabouts of this babble of tongues, / this suicide flight of words, / this hermit-crab that is my story? (poetry)
several layers of antagonism stare at us / amidst a squabbling paradox or cannibalism.
(poetry)
“The great achievement of Cracked Piano is that its poems present psychological pictures of a person in loneliness,” writes reviewer John Zheng. (poetry reviews)
Out west, we get our sunlight second hand, / when the East has settled the business of the day.
(poetry)
The last traces / of what I have lived, / of what I have loved, / are vanishing at the mercy of the wind.
(poetry)
You did not talk politics, except / to tell me we were being watched.
(poetry)
Weird fantastic beings of a / Super-intelligence. Ruling a race of synthetic humans / and pitting them against mankind’s dream.
(poetry)
in soft squares, you try to neglect / your worries and shut down / the war-voices.
(poetry)
Each day the quick kick of the dream / empties another body / and the ghosts move through unkempt streets / named Lincoln and Delaware.
(poetry)
they are the ones not allowed the roles except / maids and gardeners and gangsters and prisoners.
(poetry)
at recess the innocent school / children play and gambol in / pure non-denominational play
(poetry)
from their beacon hands / glow worldwide welcomes and a thousand smiles.
(poetry)
I dreamed the sun, very low, / painting me a mustache of sweat and coal. (poetry)
I wondered aloud / if on those odds days / where I felt like a hunted squid / that what I was actually feeling / was Light Cerulean Blue.
(poetry)
I see that the innocent face / beneath the long-brimmed, straw hat / does not seem to know it is raining.
(poetry)
All the other cool calm quite sensible terms had stable gigs in respectable stories.
(poetry)
I can ring you up for / what fits in the bag. The rest is your responsibility.
(poetry)
20th century monk / High Priest of Art / The Legendary Master— / in his bare immaculate altar of a studio / in the heart of New York City.
(poetry)
ParaGard: [thank you student health/insurance] a type of long-acting, / reversible, contraceptive, intrauterine / device.
(poetry)
Ghosts stories/told around the campfire/predicted my future.
(poetry)
Our government only practices against a sunset bleeding into the cradle of tactile landing.
(Poetry)
the city’s landmarks / are illuminated / by your stopover in my thoughts
(TCTC Translations)
I pledge allegiance to no man, / let alone some fucking flag
(poetry)
We’re whiter and more rural which means we don’t pick the president—we just narrow the view.
(poetry)
Eyes reflect the distortions / of a whitewashed mind.
(poetry)
The footbridge is missing a plank. / He has frayed the regard of everybody he knows.
(poetry)
Haranguing shots, agony, careening / blue lights stir fever in a dark bedroom.
(poetry)
