It was a small spot of red on a canvas dominated by blue and black a lone point of humanity amongst two armies without faces or names One small spot to represent the blood of millions lost A young woman walked by stirred by the…
Tag: half-marathon (for now)
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Nine: Apologies to the spider I flushed down the toilet in a wadded-up tissue
I would normally have scooped you up in a glass and taken you outside but you did a Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible and came down from the ceiling to right in front of my face bringing the fight to me This I cannot abide…
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Eight: A treatise on shame (facsimile)
I became an expert on the meaning of shame realizing what it means some twenty-five years ago, if you can believe that Back then, I still had hope that you and I could become we though I had doubts, I did my best to resist…
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Seven: War (and hide)
I am not so different I do want the same thing as everyone else— but on different terms That may be good enough or it may not so I hide I am not so different all of us are taught to hide I happen to…
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Six: Amber afternoon
Where this is going suspension of time is to be expected That’s what always happens to me when I surrender Under this sky suspended in amber an artefact from some undefined age this moment knows no history it belongs to you and me, today Stretch…
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Five: Zesto’s
Wednesday afternoon walking the few blocks down the hill with a dollar in my pocket past the Presbyterian church and neighboring houses through the vacant lot to get to the shortcut Sliding down the dirt embankment to the parking lot on Rainier Avenue I make…
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Four: Close your eyes
Stop Close your eyes and go to sleep When you close your eyes do you dream? Try not to close your eyes without dreaming Now close your eyes What do you see? (5 August 2017)
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Three: Eternity now
I’m not sure how I feel about eternity now As an escape, it’s flawed because you can never come back As a feeling, it’s frustrating because sometimes you just want to get on with it And what sort of eternity are we talking about? Is…
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour Two: The morning air is cool to the touch
At 150,000 miles the sun appeared a reddish dot against an indistinct grey sky its color a clever cover for the furnace within Bleary-eyed and a bit numb I drift through my morning routine thinking of as little as possible because I know what happens…
2017 Poetry Marathon, Hour One: The hot, hazy days of summer? Or a test run in disguise…
Smoke fans out from the fire travelling hundreds of miles in search of its own demise But it cannot escape the heat however far it flees from the flames the sun will still have its way Clouds provide no relief it has been 49 days…