Tag: writer

ocean hand (20160901)

crow6 Comments

we don’t shiver under the sea
not because we aren’t cold
not because we aren’t afraid
but ocean pressure is
the warmth of a hand without fingers

——

for
The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Shiver

policy in effect (20160831)

crow7 Comments

huddle closer to me
ask me to tell you
everything’s
going to be all right

i do
though i have doubts
of my own grabbing at my feet
though every step
is made on
shifting tectonic plates
each the size of my heart
each the size of my life

no physical clocks
in the house anymore
only digital trance mediums
monsters that communicate
silently with satellites
no ticking to mark the time
but still
the earth shifts
but still
the earth turns

i huddle closer to you
and tell you
i will be your
earthquake insurance

macaque (20160830)

crow6 Comments

watch the monkey
climb down from the tree
see him smile
displaying sharp canines
/what a ridiculous
name for a tooth
in a monkey’s mouth/
and climb into his porsche
to make up for his
pinkie-sized monkeyhood

he’s got a meeting
in hollywood
in forty minutes

the freeway
is gonna clear for him
and if it doesn’t
he’ll throw more
shit than is possible
for his tiny simian body
to produce in a year
at the other
freeway monkeys

leaves ( 20160829)

crow23 Comments

trees shaken by breezes
in summer when shadows
are crisp
in fall
when clouds hide
our other selves

books opened
favored passages
corners dog-eared

your love
in spring when belief
is easy
in winter when the leaves
are moldy memories stuck
to shoes

——

for dVerse ~ Poets Pub
Quadrille #15: Leaves

joke on the road (20160828)

crow8 Comments

the street runs through
a good, quiet neighborhood
though cars drive too fast
zipping through crosswalks
where stop signs should stand
guard

amusing themselves
two boys took an orange cone
and placed it in the center
of the street
then evacuated to a spot
out of the radius
of incrimination
to sit and watch

i remembered as a kid
laying double-sided
swaths of masking tape
in the street and waiting
for cars to hit it
then slow down
the sound mimicking a flat

as a pedestrian i laughed
with those boys
and as a driver
i swore at them
but then i just felt bad

only the first handful of cars slowed
and through some kind of
group psychic message
cluing in drivers to the prank
a swarm of cars barely
slowed at all

they left after a few waves
their cynicism confirmed
or the laughter unsatisfied
or their disgust getting
the better of them

sonnet agley (20160825)

crow18 Comments

i don’t want to know how things are going
not with you–not with your resurrected life
i have little interest in knowing
if you’ve given your hair up to the knife

i can’t scrape up the enthusiasm
to hear you talk about your latest trip
once i thought it was because the chasm
widens–a bridge of shoddy workmanship

but really all i can hear is white noise
i feel a constant pressure on my skin
‘neath water where leviathan enjoys
the dark saline fluidity of sin

sunk deeper than any of neptune’s pools
my leather heart blossoms in bleached spicules

reflections on walking the dog (20160824)

crow15 Comments

i’m afraid of the last time
i’m going to walk the dog
it’s not that he’s sick
mind you
he seems to be
in pretty good health
though he’s missing most of his teeth
and has more years on him than any dog
i’ve ever had

but it’s the not knowing the last walk
will be the last walk
that grinds its teeth
in my ear when i lean over to pet him
or wave the air frantically
because of his secret gas attack
so secret
that if it’s silent
he doesn’t even notice it

so i have to remind myself
to not get impatient
or tug at the leash
when he want’s to stop
and sniff ever message on our walk
i don’t want the last thing
i said to him to be
hurry up