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BALLET OF THE GODS
Once they pierced your heelsto hobble you, bound upfeet and ankles to lashyou to the earth, there weren’tangels then, no wings, just the painof toes crushed inward,the silent agony of motion,a cruel joke played by godsstarved for entertainment.But Terpsichore, hearingErato’s song, set them freebrought them to a pointe,allowed them to take winglessflight, and toes became…
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ERATO PREFERS LATTE
My muse sits quietly on the shelf over the counter in the Café Espresso at Barnes and Noble nestled between 12 ounce bags of Colombian Supremo and Kenya AA, in the shadow of the plant whose leaves reach out to caress her cheek. She whispers to me between notes from the guitarist performing on the…
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ALLEY
It was a dark alley with no apparent end and I wasn’t certain how I came to be here. Actually I was. I followed her into the alley, followed the promise of light she made. I do tend to follow her not for her beauty though she can show that when she chooses, but because…
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ERATO
Sit down and be silent, you always want to speak at the worst possible moment, whispering incessantly in my ear when I cannot answer you. When I call on you, you prefer to avoid me, playing off in a corner somewhere sampling the joys of the day to be forgotten by nightfall when I seek…
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CACOPHONY OF SILENCE
There is one thing a poet hates more than a page that refuses to be filled – it is coming across words that profess or are sworn to silence. I had a pen I truly loved until it announced early one morning it was taking a vow of iambic celibacy. Poems once pregnant with possibility…
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ERATO’S NIGHTMARE
That one summer I worked in the plant I could hear them whisper in the break room, with its always empty Coke machine. They’d get real quiet when I came in some would nod a hello and quickly leave. At first I thought it was because I was only there for the summer, but once,…
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an old writer and his words 