White Ravens – And More Stories
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Category Archives: Poem
I think the word flit was invented by someone watching chickadees.
What is it about two o’clock, the bitching hour? Dreaded double-strike. The eyes snap open, no retreat from wakefulness– it’s just a poem.
Consciousness, a gift of accelerating time, provides no answers.
Little squirrel chirps six feet from my smiling face: half-hearted scolding. (pinterest.com)
Sometimes I am a smoker and a drunk Sometimes I’m not and engage with the world Sometimes whirling and curling I accept all animals as equals Sometimes that is my only hope to accept my own species Lately the arrogance … Continue reading
Clayton Moore and Jay Silverheels rest by the Rio Grande, sharing sushi under a sky of forever blue. Scout and Silver graze nearby. To the south, a tumble of clouds builds over Mexico, rumpled shadows running across the far mesas. … Continue reading
Left right left right left my brain trading back and forth quick entertainment (top: adsoftheworld.com; bottom: preptalk.hermits.com)
Here: too warm for Spring, not hot enough for Summer– a nameless season. (figtreepress.co.uk/liminal.htm)
You are younger than my daughter, but you are not my daughter. The rich human history of young women and old men is a cross-grain of joyful noise and heartache. Wisdom is the most valuable attribute in both directions, a … Continue reading