Monday, July 18, 2011

idle

I sing a soft prayer to my hands
-and I wait for them to do something.
Posted by at
Labels: , ,

1 comment:

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

  • Memoir of a Memoir: Week 7
    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...
  • Hi Faithful Readers
    This is just a short note from me to inform you that after my extensive monthly study and subsequent written exploration of Psalms and Prove...
  • John Wayne
    two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked...
  • small stones
    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...
  • Oh, Jealousy
    You are not the first to ache and turn green, ill from the motion sicknesses and poisoned canteen-- As you hike up the hill of "What if...
  • The Hiker
    Tangible branches bow to meet me Oh, how they bend to my will They don't snap; brittle and stale When pressed for comfort They never fee...
  • small stones
    July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
  • thoughtful hillbillies
    RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner....
  • Me first, bullshit second
    I am unique. "Fellow" Christians: I am a Christian but I DON'T buy into your right wing bullshit. Think. Then Speak. My"a...
  • Wright
    silver-tongued wings flapping bones split but connect to each other every few inches. arms opened create flight-lips purse full of gold word...

Poets United Contributor