On Writing

Poem 115 – Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning back at the dining room tablecooling coffeecoffee breath thickfour pensthree journalstwo markershand-written poemson pretty pink paperthe tops ragged fromtearing them off the padoverflowing bread basketrecycled paper napkinstoo many to fit in the holderso they topple under thelaptop cord & virtual schoolprint-outs the napkin holderholding up Miller’s cell phonethe Mega To Do Listthis poem… Continue reading Poem 115 – Sunday Morning

On Writing

Poem 112 – Promised Lee

Promised Lee Headlamp burnt outon all foursdragging damp bonesover sharp stonesthe wind a violentwarden with an addiction to chaosshe whips & slapsbranches & vinessurrendering at her pulls For weeks nowdragging these dreamsin open woundsblood glistening underthe glare of ananxious sunprayers drapedlike shrouds sentto the startled moonwhose tides disconnectthe body from the land Where are you, promised… Continue reading Poem 112 – Promised Lee