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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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
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...
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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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Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
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in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
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At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
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Today I was interviewed for Poets United small stone: July 13th so many things for granted, taken: two kinds of silverware.
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A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
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July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
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like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
Poets United Contributor
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