What is that sound at the end of the sentence? That sound after the period has stamped its mark. Dangling, like a wisp of cloud, a feather fallen from a tree when the bird has escaped the cat. It is silent yet so loud my ears explode, my breath is held in anticipation of the … Continue reading The Sound At The End of the Sentence

It owned you, though you never had a choice, from your birth, bound to poverty by chain, in the grip of deprivation and lack. In such hardened bondage you were a slave, devoid of honesty and deep sorrow, possessing only dreams until those too were gone. A dreamer, always dreaming more, then gone with an … Continue reading The Slave

Roses are red (sometimes) Violets aren’t blue (they’re violet) Old Mother Hubbard went to her refrigerator While the cow jumped over a low fence And Jack Sprat’s wife had a heart attack. Of all things in the universe, living and non-living, we are unique because of our personage.

The borders are flung open, our vagaries let in, false declarations of our sorrow, the honesty of sin. We climb from the depths of our dark dank holes to share our shameful mystery, that we imagine a different future, void of claims to present history. We shed our heavy burdens as we turn upon each … Continue reading The Poet’s Tome VIII

Pepper hair, limp and stringy. Old maybe, grey eyes that prevents the world from touching him, or he from it. Once he was a person. Scary, maybe sad. He kept his things around him on the table. His bobbles, his possessions. Like they were little people, like they were his children, like he didn’t own … Continue reading Numbers