sex
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Liminal Joys
The bookstore lights were off. Its window glass reflected red neon from the theater marquee across the street. If you peered inside, if you shaded your eyes with your hands you could see thousands of books stacked and racked their spines titillating to a man of words as what’s under a skirt is to a…
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National Poetry Month 5 – In the Morning
Soft skin and warm over the pillow fort displacing the cat I insinuate myself lodged next to you where I can wrap my arms and legs around your body as you sleep. You stir and mold into me and there is nothing on Earth that matters more in that moment but you.
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Woodrow Wilson Said
I need a Southern Belle like the damned need water in hell dress her up in white lace put some rouge on her pretty face and let me go to town Let Edith come up to my room tell the maid to drop the broom I want her to sit on my face put my…
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The Apotheosis of Ray Bradbury
Ray Bradbury is 100! I can still see him, larger than life, when I close my eyes – he has never died. He existed on the planet of his birth for over ninety sweeping orbits of its sun. Transitory was his life, specular, reflective, but also burning with his own light like that sun. Doing…
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National Poetry Month: “St. Augustine in Love”
She was so beautiful. She vibrated with life. I tossed her an apple from the neighbors orchard she reached out and caught it one-handed her skin honey, her hair like burnt offerings. I needed her like I needed reed and ink. Soft belly and taut breasts held high on her frame like melons fresh from…
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National Poetry Month: “Fire”
The Normandie was burning in New York harbor. It was a nebulous sensation the question of fire and the man who watched the cork life vests bloom how fascinating, how pure to see the ignition of plasma and watch its growth from birth to groaning metal collapse into the harbor, the water sprays now floes…
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Sexual Creatures
We are all sexual creatures, we dress up in our dowdy exterior paints, some flat primer and our simple stitched cloth and dance around the reality. We anchor ourselves to deep ocean currents, a green sea of belief and understood truth. Sometimes it’s received truth sent to us from barmen and priests, often times they’re…
The Numinous Cosmos 