breezes (20171024)

not so much voice
as brute force
this dry santa ana
sandblasting smooth edges
off a dead man’s curves
pitting and chipping away
at softness
whatever softness we have left

dust scratches the throat
under the lids when the eyes shut
the eyes of the dead will itch forever
with copper keeping them blind

don’t forget to tip
the ferryman so
when it’s my time to cross
if i have to hang out in hell
at least i won’t be stacking stones
to build a stairway
out of my own prayers

i’ll teach him
to build a sail
and he can lay down his oar
put his hand to his ear
and prognosticate
the direction of the wind

river and hunger (20170321)

i am sewn into a beaver pelt
and set adrift in the river
i hear the rocks split the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite

i feel them drag along my back
these jagged river stones
not yet worn down, splitting the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite

no longer enough air to breathe
the stench of game hide and water fills my lungs
bruised, i flail, splitting the water
though finally darkness satiates my
starving sense of sight’s appetite


dVerse ~ Poets Pub
Poetics: The River

the river (Poem 20160428)

urging us forward
the breath of the ancient river on our backs
we stepped back from the ledge
we stood closer together
at this great height
gigantic but now reduced to a trickle
moving blindly
but like something ancient
the river twisted not like a snake
we looked down into the chasm


National Poetry Month
NaPoWriMo Day 28
Reverse Story

Poem 20160210

through these trees
a cold river runs
flowing true
wearing light
bold fish stare holding your gaze
your feet splash–shivers



Hey, it’s a twofer challenge!

The Secret Keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #23
(5) Words: | STARE | RIVER | HOLD | TRUE | WEAR |


Jane Dougherty Writes
Poetry challenge #17: Shadorma

Poem 20150308

through my open window
i hear the traffic of the freeway
they warned us when we bought
that the freeway was close
were we sure this is where we wanted to buy?
there were other houses that didn’t border
the big river of concrete
with the noise
but it didn’t matter to us
and now
the first day of daylight savings
after we’ve sprung forward
and the sun seems to take longer to
drift below the horizon
the freeway sounds like the roar of an alien ocean
where the waves never crash against
the sand
the rushing of water in some giant river
in fact and not just metaphor
and the motorcycles vibrating growls and shrieks
the shrill cries
of foreign birds seeking a meal
returning again and again
always circling