Triggers on the Gardening Tool
like swords to plowshares, we no longer use these words to cut. our wits, sharpened to peel back layers of self-harm. onions making me tear up without knowing why. Amid […]
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Writings
Kindled
stacks of notebooks like cordwood fending off the cold paltry fire barely big enough to keep my fingers warm so i can write and count the pages as they flutter
via negativa (for us)
The admin of the poetry newsletter posts his name and address in the email signature dry droll “Daring” Dave Bonta Podunk, Penna. An invitation beating down his cabin door but
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Autumn’s Fall
feel the thrum of a ruffed grouse mating call as it beats beneath my breastbone asking after me. ruffled my feathers, too. *** pine boughs like a lover’s caress feather
Ten dollars and a direction
she relays to me that I’m odd (not that I haven’t heard that before) and that I’ll always be that way (yah, I’ve heard that too) and this is why
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MARVELS
Marvels The old rugged cross splinters and all thorn in one’s side festering ‘fore it let go. Devoid of the deity destined to be there, simple sheep beast burdened. 1.
Child’s Play
Child’s Play from Metro a Traveling Tales of Waybackwhen book He was here before. In another life removed from the hustle and bustle of making ends, and beginnings meet. Always
memento mori
pacing ‘round the parking lot still with white snow ball bearings making their move tracks bearing the weight that which they were never meant my back against the building mirrors