Category Archives: Poetry
Looking Up
(for William Stafford) Your poems run the gamut;you have blessed us with musicof realization and understanding.Many of those poems were bornon your couch, lying on your back,looking up at your journal.Really? Their birth is asastonishing as their venerable lives. Advertisements
The Way Forward
Anger finds my heart unreceptive to the pull of self indulgence; it is not the time for self righteous behavior and losing my way. My heart knows the way when my mind is distracted. I am who I am. I … Continue reading
Visceral Musing
Here Poemy, here girl, here boy, hweet, hwheet, wheet… c’mon—atta girl, atta boy, c’mon. Bronkbuster’s muse is a dominatrix— demanding, abusive, beautiful, alluring, cruel, and dripping wet—smelling of sea and sagebrush. Mine is on cat’s feet, shifting shapes and sometimes … Continue reading
Reading Admonition
Reading poems– a bronkbuster, a recovered drunk, a morning iconoclast; all tell me: write something with velocity, not half fast. (Paul Zarzyski: Gordon Stevens; Richard Hugo: Hugo House; William Stafford: American Academy of Poets)
A Poem Comes
My impatience robs me of my observance, but sharpens my pen. I slice my ego into quivering hunks of silvery fatback, sputtering in the skillet I heat with my heart. Shame fits me too well. I am only as good … Continue reading
Haiku: The Night Warms
Coffee sits swallowed at the top of my stomach; my brainstem is warm. (stock photo)
Mister Sniffy
In the grey light before sunrise you examine the yard and driveway: sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff Snort! sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff Snort! The new light catches the focus in your eyes, much as it might catch the focus … Continue reading
A Left-Brain Deal
Writing is a left-brain deal Maybe Shaping the chatter like clay into a sculpture Can it be a song too? Both? Thawed music? It’s a left-brain deal, though The right brain knows what words are but doesn’t use them, I … Continue reading