Tag Archives: Poetry
Another Version of Three Loves
I steal. It’s my nature. No license. So I will count three loves although there have been so many more. Lover #1 had no licenses. Didn’t need one to play guitar. He jumped off a stage to kiss me. But … Continue reading
Filed under Night Poems
Say Silver Not Gray
Some words open too wide to be swallowed without choking. I’ve choked enough to last into my next life. It could happen—but probably not to me. Once. Who really knows. Best to stick with a metallic beauty and let urges … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
No More Bloomingdale’s Minnesota
In closing, some stand back in their standard poses, others have taken the fall into a pile of limbs and tiny torsos. All white-washed and naked and smoothed over and buckled under the expanse of gray carpet in an empty … Continue reading
Filed under Afternoon Poems
Speaker Less Easy
These legs ache from the act of hauling the memory of his voice and brilliant wisecracks out my door, down the back stairs, to the alley dumpster. Done. I lean these old wooden idols against the iron base on wheels. … Continue reading
Filed under Day Poems
No More Hints
Strong evidence of tobacco use on the corner outside the library. I should know. Have checked out for five all but one year of my life in this town. A red Q on this book cover is no longer a … Continue reading
Filed under Civil Twilight or Dawn Poems
No Bus to Abilene
Welcome to your usual table by the window, to a few stories behind the Soo Line clock on the corner. Welcome back diamond-shaped laughter without a live audience. The flowers you ordered for your mother should arrive in time to … Continue reading
Filed under Day Poems
This Is Proof
She can count to infinity, or as long as she lives to write. Poems are tallies in a growing series of figure eights. Notches in the leg of a wooden desk— here’s where it gets locked in. Little deaths and … Continue reading
Filed under Day Poems
Ode to Technics
Twenty-one-year-old speakers and receiver and tuner and equalizer and memory of how I would buy and pay anything to get closer to that bastard of young with the voice. To replace it all now terrifies me. The sound of anticlimax … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
Curse of the Cult of Personality
A door-to-door salesman who sells doors, he can’t hang on a gate without walls or a fence to give it purpose. He swings on bars parallel to nothing anyone can see. But he does, and it’s hinged in brass. And … Continue reading
Filed under Afternoon Poems
Beneath Her
No chance for nighttime dreaming—a neighbor’s dance beat disruptions wreck any hope of true REM. Her tolerance for talking to drunks has diminished over a decade in reprieve till it’s shrunk to the size of a single shot of espresso … Continue reading
Filed under Morning Poems, Night Poems, Overnight Poems
