Writer. Demand Poet.
—
How still the house
Can be without
My son home:
I hear pages turning,
Socks sliding on
The hardwood, the
Gurgle of the baseboard
Heaters. These and also
Impatient jangling of
Nerves at once relieved,
Then shuddering with the… Read the rest “How Still – small stone”
—
how you adore the
Gloomy Bear, with his
Saucer eyes, and pink
fur. You don’t
Notice that he’s
Sadistic anime with
Blood on his
Claws. I coo
Nonchalantly and
Slowly
Close that tab.
–
I’m writing small stones … Read the rest “A Girl and Gloomy – small stone”
—
Everyday a pile of
Useless mortgage and
Credit offers land inside
That bronze and rusted
Mailbox I want to replace.
Except, when, like a
Semicolon, the stream of
Marketing unconsciousness
Is interrupted by a
A cancelled stamp and
My … Read the rest “Cancelled – small stone”
—
I fly by you
On the way to pickup.
On a stranger’s
Lawn, you assemble yourself
Into a web of
Neon yellow straps–
The harness to
Hold you here on this earth,
Up there,
In the arms of
One … Read the rest “Harness – small stone”
—
at 8:09
I notice that
11 minutes seems like
a great deal of
time.
multiplied
many times by
all these rushing people
and squared again by the
sick ones,
biding and
abiding.
Then,
slowed,
by the
lounging dogs.