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FORGOTTEN PROCLAMATION
He was quite tall for then, even tall for now, and that hat must have added almost a foot, a mortician likely as not, if not a lawyer. He wrote eloquently, even if his voice was not quite of his stature, his words always had impact, digging in the gray and blue bled soil of…
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VISION
He is bent over, walks with a shuffling stumble. He follows the path, inscribing it center or as close to it as he can get. He wants to say hello to those who would acknowledge him. He doesn’t understand why his mouth refuses to smile, refuses to form even the simplest of words. All he…
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THE SON
He hangs on the guest room wall, simply framed in black, adjoining his more ornate, Cheshire- cat smiling sister. He isn’t brooding really, there is just a certain needful sadness, as he stares out, imagining how he pictured things would be, how they were supposed to be, realizing here, they never were, never will be,…
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BELLY OF THE BEAST
From within the belly of the beast Sheol is a placid place, removed from the waves rattling the timbers, silent of the cries of the men berating their fate, uncertain as to the cause of their discomfort. Let Nineveh burn, lets its people scatter to the streets, let the King stare out at the destruction…
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EROTHANATOS Vol. 3, No. 3
Just yesterday Erothanatos (from India) released its issue number 3 of volume 3, a collection of poets from several countries. I was honored to have seven poems appear in this issue and you can find them here: https://www.erothanatos.com/v3i3n10 But if you don’t have the time, one of the included poems was: In a Prior Life…
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FOCUS
He always paid passing attention to the coconut palms. It wasn’t that they were so attractive as to merit attention. Quite the contrary, they were remarkable ordinary as palms go. But he knew that if the drivers here didn’t get him, a ill-timed coconut leaping from a palm would be pleased to do the job.…
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UNTO TARSHISH
In this place there is a fatted, sacrificial silence. It is the large Jewish Cemetery nestling the road where Maryland and the District are loosely stitched together. It is a small plot goldenrod dirt outskirting Lisbon. This ground is sacred not for the blessing of one who has taken the tallit of holiness. The sanctity…
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OBITS
You read the obituaries every day not only for the confirmation that you are not listed among them. The key five words there are not only for the affirmation, particularly upon hearing the gentle man you liked, but you also valued as a friend and craftsman is gone, and you didn’t say goodbye, that you…
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ANOTHER BAR, THIS ONE TOKYO
This poem was recently (February 5, 2019) published in the Beatnik Cowboy. Check them out at: https://beatnikcowboy.com/ “Another,” he said, his knees pressing against the mahogany panels of the old bar, “and keep them coming until I can take no more. There won’t be a last call tonight.” The clatter of caroming billiard balls…
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A PEELING
She says if you could only peel back the photograph, you could read the entire story that lies beneath. Is deeper than the image below which it lies trapped, and the wider, imbued with a meeting the image could not capture, just as, she says frowning, there are no words for parts of the picture,…
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an old writer and his words 