There's a soft rumbling in the belly of your guitar
reminds me of just how small my hands are--
gentle ends of my finger tips
match the humming inside my lips--
But you'll condescend now with structured chords
you all with your betwitching stringed gourds
I fumble and shake and forget my place
Get lost in the black hole of memory's embrace--
reminds me of how small my hands were
and so the spotlight I would always defer
gentle ache in the belly of my guitar
my true self trapped inside the mason jar.
Tickle your toes. . .
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
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Private Edgar Perry for Edgar Allen Poe I reported for duty, a Bostonian, surly, moody, unsteady. Twenty and two, not eighteen, Yes, twenty ...
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I was just awarded the Stylish Blogger Award! (awarded by John Evans ) I was asked to write 7 things about myself,and to award 10 ot... -
We're both writers but, why is it that we cannot truly express what it is we feel without the recommendation of a movie reel- We're ...
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
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lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
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Urine and Lilies for Pablo Neruda I had an early love for Walt Whitman. I did. He was not by any means a concrete idol, jutting out over the...
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and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
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nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
Poets United Contributor
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