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Cat Over Clock

Poetry Saves the World

Tag

death

Daughter

Does the sun feel scared— Looking out over earth and all she cares for? Does she fear the loss of one of her most beautiful children? The Earth, one of her closest? A beautiful ball of water and fire, circling... Continue Reading →

What’s Age?

what's age but a thunderclap, a gathering of voices, the smell of rain, the gift of lines connecting my birth to my death, wind that forces years up a tree, the high ladder I climb to reclaim them, and the... Continue Reading →

Never Die for the Man

Live. Live for love, Live for the song of the red, glass heart. Live for the earth and for pain, Live. Live for the wonder of yourself. And never, ever die for the man.

Star Dust

For James: What draws out the chaos other than dreams Dreams of lips with me Covering me Devouring me I can't breathe An echo brings me back in time A thousand letters that can't mark the cold in my heart... Continue Reading →

Basil (with no middle name)

July 26, 2017 I tried to hold your paws, they were smaller, the same shape. All of us shrink when we age but sometimes we shrink early from within. I spent years timing the moments for your dinner, smelling your... Continue Reading →

Morning Minutes

Long waits with strangers on the road breathing this load Beyond the vein follow the pain Hand over fist in overdrive staying alive Tread high alleys flooded valleys Too softly our footfalls descend hearts will defend Rest easy now strengt--endow

Babbling Brook

Today, like many days, the sun rose and five birds sent a loud protest to the neighbor. I remembered your shine and reached back for my favorite lines to reuse them, love them, fear them, make them immortal... The dream... Continue Reading →

Basil (with no middle name)

   I urged you. Gentle, kind behemoth hands to your frame, small and full of bugs. They were a test to us. Everyday intelligent bacteria reign over the ending-- yet create lovely spindles of joy, flowers in the garden and... Continue Reading →

Flies

Tired, trying to move on the air drugged by lavender vodka and the inhabitants tearing them down. I can't live with all of you. Your multi-lensed eyes scared of water-bag ghosts, making your imprint in the hummus, your off-spring in... Continue Reading →

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