“Time Happens,” an Illustrated Poem
That feeling you get after the days turn into weeks and then into decades, and you look in the mirror one morning ...
Read MoreThat feeling you get after the days turn into weeks and then into decades, and you look in the mirror one morning ...
Read MoreWhat can I say? Sometimes, you just have to write a haiku about the Dollar Store. They should sell it there. For a dollar.
Read MoreDots of satellites, / slow-moving stars / high high overhead, / always circling the / marble of the earth, / pass by well past / midnight, far above / the push-up Appalachians ...
Read MoreI've spent years collecting footage of trains rumbling through West Virginia's hills, dales & valleys. I also scribble poems that play on Buddhist allusions. And there's this electronic music maestro I know named Lucas the Flow, who composes ethereal tunes. Mix them together and this is what you get ...
Read MoreIt is lovely here, this place you call the past, / but which is my present. We meet in the middle, / upon this bridge of words ...
Read MoreWe prance across the floor & close / the space. Until I see your back to me, those hips, an intoxicating / whiff of shampoo, the outline of your lips, an accidental touch, / matched rhythms, yes, our bodies talking on a wavelength our / minds cannot access ...
Read MoreSometimes, you gotta go short, instead of long. A sampling of short poems and epigrams in advance of an autumnal reading amid the West Virginia trees.
Read MoreHow hard it is to dream, / to dream well. Besieged by / wants, missing what’s not / there. Wanting what we / cannot have, or could, at a / high cost of misery ...
Read More'I think that I cannot be killed, / that my work is incomplete, / my dreams / not yet completely manifested … / Why do we think this way?'
Read MoreAs a writer, purveyor, and publisher of creative works, I am constantly wrestling with my ego’s desire to see such work as of lasting significance, a hedge against my own mortality. Yet such works, too, will soon pass on by and melt away, swallowed by the river of time. Here’s a video-poem about that.
Read MoreWhen the azaleas burst into bloom around a Buddha given me by a dear, departed, harmonic soulmate, it was time to set her memorial song to imagery of the green, green hills of Earthh ...
Read MoreWhat does it mean when you are you struggling and wrestling with your writing or art? Nayyirah Waheed sums up.
Read MoreMy beard is trimmed close to the flesh, so the strong coffee barely touches my mustache, leaving a scent of dark chocolate and turned soil. / I have never learned to tell the truth, dressing instead in these words for a passeggiatta in the cool September sun.
Read MoreA more Catholic grade school name you could / not conjure — Our Lady of the Rosary. Where, on a / bright Saturday afternoon, I'm surprised to find / an orange traffic cone propping open a first-floor / door. And so, as one will do when invited by the / cosmos to stroll the hallways where you once / walked…
Read MoreThere is a difference / between people who do things / and people who don't ...
Read More