allow your poetry to take flight.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Choo Choo Tune
(for Theo Erickson)
walking 'round my city.
Trains ain't made to fly.
They are made to tow
all the goods we love
and blow their whistle
loud enough to stop
and say, "Hello!"
Trains are boys toys,
but cool girls like 'em
too. They make funny
noises like choo choo,
beep beep, and the brakes
go squeak squeak!
too. They make funny
noises like choo choo,
beep beep, and the brakes
go squeak squeak!
I ride a cool train
that goes underground!
It takes me to my
writing spot where
I can see the sun come
up and watch the pretty people
up and watch the pretty people
walking 'round my city.
Trains make me happy.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Laney at Mary O's
Nobody knows what happens
A gloved hand hides
behind closed doors except those
attending a communal wonder:
a pianist tenaciously performing
love.
love.
A gloved hand hides
its sins. The working man,
pianist or carpenter, wears
his epidermal honesty.
He lies to none
and hammers the keys.
Aural beauty's indiscriminate—
only eyes lie to ears.
only eyes lie to ears.
The Texas fiend makes
ears weep at the spectacle
of his vessel that he's
flaying with piano strings.
flaying with piano strings.
Yet most just sit
in silent bliss,
receiving the harmless
gift of art.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
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