Poetry

in Wait of Return

Stubble

usually I wear tweed like the ageing bachelor I am carry a pipe in an inside pocket behave politely give thanks and compliments about…

After the coquilles Saint Jacques

Erasures

Begin redacting. Blacking out Until what’s left is cryptic With knowledge only you can Penetrate. Choreographer of Significance. The words pirouette At the barre.…

This fierce year paces

behind every plan to bring her home. Like the burning bush landmark on Tiger Mountain Road, she is a bright detail withdrawn by the…

Jennifer Harley

you’re insane she says you’re just another one of those assholes who falls in love one of those fools who rides motorcycles through big…

Brain dead fuckwits everywhere

waxing their cars on Sunday afternoons plodding towards darkening horizons pushing their prams eating their leggings at the back end and stuffing a Gregs…

Selections from “A Thousand and One Cranes”

Last Word Before he left, his finger on my arm drawing something, I said it quick: blossom, but it felt like goodbye. Lesson for…

The Minister’s Daughter

The technique is called blockout poetry, a type of found poetry. I used selected words from a page in one of Flannery O’Connor’s short…

Chef vs. Waiter

come at me, Chef get yourself within my radius I warn you I’ve armed myself with a corkscrew and a ballpoint pen my cocktail…

After Crossing Bobtail Creek

There are voices in me so old, I cannot decipher. Like divers they speak to each other under water. They bubble up grains of…

It’s been a half century since the fair

and I have given up naming cars, waist length hair and wishing for a horse. I do not believe I will live in a…