Mid-Winter Poetry Craving
....Here's an oldie I dug out from my files; Winter always makes me crave poetry...and poetry always makes me crave...craving.
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Dust. Wind. Dude.
There is a familiar pit in my stomach that tells me I must put something down on paper. So to speak.
It's a pit that reminds me of other pits, that makes me 16 again, and 26, all the years joined by a common physiological sense of being carried by an idea or a feeling, literally hungry for something to write. Medical science will tell you that the pit is the work of the vagus nerve in my abdomen, which has[...]
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Weekly Verse
So, you want people?
Let them in, but just so much past the door;
otherwise they will
either park on your soul
or
you
will end up wanting more.
Choose:
Which welcome mat position?
You lose yourself,
Or you simply lose.
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Nadab
Leviticus 10:1-3
Brother,
these rules will be the death of us:
this “how to please me”
this tutorial of the soul.
How can passion
wear a girdle?
Answer questions?
Wash?
Where is the sacrifice
in this ritual
if our flesh isn’t in it?
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Turnpike Insomnia
Being the only one awake
life stands still;
I am timeless with no company, no measuring stick of kitchen or toys.
It’s now about whatever I can push
into the empty closet of two a.m.,
in a house full of little (and one big) boys.
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Suburban Worship
Our Lady of Compromise
- at the Corner of
Stability and Main -
invites you to a
Sisterhood Brunch
in Honor of
Everyone Being the Same.
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On Empty
The emptiness of being full,
when hunger is the only good muse I’ve had in years.
(Remember the joy of jagged yearning?)
I watch fulfillment share its lazy bed with sleep - -
warm with babies and stability,
stuffed with calories, consistency and compromise.
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35
You want:
to be everything you ever were
- who made you pick
a story and stick
to it? –
and let the others just sift their way
through
you.
And More:
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The Social Well
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