poetry

A brief, coy, near-smile from a supermarket check-out girl. Does she know that I’m — a poet?

Red wine from a glass slowly emptying, tell me, I wondered with a glance down the table, when the moon fades back into a bluing sky, what will rouse you from your long, long, drink? Kissing, yawning, touching, tell me — whose mouth will be warmer than mine?

lights of a city night turn into chrysanthemums when I lift my glasses from my eyes

Tell me the truth though truth turn goats’ milk into morphine a many-fingered touch as cold as frozen corn. I want to know. I must know. I will know though knowing be numbered with the turns of the earth. Tell me the truth. You can give your liver for science. You can put your marrow … Continue reading you

My lover’s soft eyes shine through the dark. She won’t stop crying ‘til that old cart is placed back behind the weary mules that truly don’t mind pulling a home. We’ll come to the top of the mountain. It can’t be doubted. There I’ll rest and love my big-hearted watermelon.