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Print Before Reading

     Print Before Reading I want your hands to hold my written words, Your hovering fingers to caress them, your Fingertips to touch these lines like a bird’s— A hummingbird’s—wing wafts the air, the pure And cool breeze fanned above the nectar.  I Want your...

So Keats was Wrong

     So Keats was Wrong So Keats was wrong:  a star is not so firm Or steadfast as a lover’s sonnet yearns For it to be.  In fact, his urgent sperm Was probably more loyal and his tears For Fanny Brawne more strident than two bright, Twin stars.  Besides, some stars...

Straight

                   Straight The  look  on  my  young   face  did  not  make  you Unbutton  shirt   or   heart.       N o   whisper   came From  you,  not even  once,     though  once  we two Kissed.     Kissing    only   made   a   distant    frame Around  your ...

The Life of Stars

          The Life of Stars Stars lives are always long, slow deaths.  They die And live by burning.  Furnace-like, their cores Consist of catastrophic heat.  They fry The elements just like inquisitions Turned crazies into saints.  Crushed hydrogen Produces helium. ...

Graffiti

              Graffiti Are we just God’s graffiti, you more bold Than I, and I a bit too fancy like Calligraphy on Mandarin silk rolled Round ivory; you big, a brilliant spike Of gold and orange, I a purple line Perhaps predestined as your foil?  Are you And I created...

Past Addictions

              Past Addictions There’s death and there’s enduring.  Other than That, not much else.  Don’t give me all that shit About how wonderful life is.  A clan Of optimists dressed in Day Glo can hit My head with hope.  I’ll  reply,  “Love and faith Take...