Category Archives: poems

do the pigeons of Perron have their blinders on? are their narrow minds that far gone? ask the little saint— oops, now ain’t there feathers in the Sturgeon?   circle walk gobble talk shivers and a puff fluff bird speak that’s rough, … Continue reading →

you woke with cinnamon smiles enthusiastically, you beguiled perfect wedding planner banter hanging with maid of honor bf flair forever Privada, so clever posies picked should invitations of wood would the Duchess has cake for our union day’s sake now … Continue reading →

in my desert island life if i had to choose between taking my android or ten of my favorite old paperbacks i’d take my old paperbacks every time my android doesn’t have the history i need even though it has A I, I T and 4G … Continue reading →

black stillness is my bend in the river for five minutes a stretch   paper lanterns low almost dark with little white dots feel light and weight interconnected at the edge— hot surrender is one sweaty thought the uncomfortable comfort … Continue reading →

it’s fresh! fresh exciting! it’s like a New Year to me   disco ball twenty dance party fourteen martini love bug hoot n’ holler

is my beautiful ego an imperfect nothing? am i nothing, going nowhere with nothing?   nothing? perfect, Buddha i can’t hold on to nothing that’s too loose, man   i was the second newborn to cry along with baby one in the maternity … Continue reading →

five lights refracted in a constellation of icy drips a foggy curtain of twilight gauze is my Milky Way so far away sub zero as seen through icicles on my eyelashes— and my moon boots crunch   here, sub zero actually minus thirty … Continue reading →

hoarfrost sheets of frozen lace drape the dormant soldiers on Gate Avenue and tinkle, tinkle in the northern dark like crystal memories of Lara’s Siberia   tinkle, tinkle sleeping gray soldiers I see your cold breath through the hoarfrost sheets of … Continue reading →

uhms and aahs with hands in pockets shuffle feet, slightly slouching mumble, mumble something, something— i shouldn’t bother with intros unless i write them i should just read the goddamn poem

the leaves are falling on Madonna Drive Mission Hill’s in mist and I can’t see the cross at the top today   the old school house is locked looks like it stopped teaching long before this green was planted long before … Continue reading →