The infant won’t remember reeling images
Poetry
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Death of Metaphor
If Metaphor had held through Crucifixion, I, too, would have had my eighty years
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Year of the Rat
Our parents perished in beeping rooms,
Their funerals pixellated: freezing:
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Prayers at 4
I would stand out in the mallows
And cow pastures, arms and eyes
Opened wide, crying, praying:
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Your Presence Is Requested
he pawed through his closet
like a bear in a blackberry bramble