This hurting is an eagle's ache.
with unclipped, unfurled rage hidden inside
a broken break
or beak.
But I've decided to move things along
softly swifly with only
my body, and the wind,
gliding-
no longer will I speak.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
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Reach for the clouds. . .
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...
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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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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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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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
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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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confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
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sex object. not afraid of the words. I've used many objects for the sake of sex. in fact my body has been pretty disposable- I don't...
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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 ...
You have a very distinct and refreshing voice; I'm enjoying reading through your work. I like this sharp piece in particular.
ReplyDelete"This hurting is an eagle's ache" - what a wonderful line! The image of gliding works really well here and gives the reader a lift, as well. Nice to see you here at Poets United.
ReplyDeleteThank you, I'm happy to be apart of the group!
ReplyDelete