I have left my notebook behind me, again Pages of nakedness between bright covers. There are readers of minds, Subtle and powerful, Who control these corridors. And yet I have lasted five years. The numbers of the floors flash, And this dirty darkness Opens like a book. – Michael Graves
Category Archives: Poetry
The Harlebur Year
Mom named you that. It Was an adaptation from the name I Gave you: “Harley Davidson.” (You purr like a motorcycle). So now it’s been a year. I’ve aged one, you aged seven. Sometimes I feel like we could call it “Even.” Or maybe I’ve got you beat—it’s Felt like twenty since Mom left. You …
Painted Face
painted face is that u hiding/behind that mask i know yr complexion yr images do not mirror/like others yr face is a glowing mass of configurations the company u keep is a kaleidoscope of what was maybe/is painted face stop the minstrel/show and the song/dance stop running in place shielding the truth dear painted face …
Car Stereo
going lady love steps out naked 101.3 FM wearing nothing just her woofer and tweeters
Plastic Cow Ball
Blood congealed upon my head Kiss me now that I am dead Oh Romeo, Romeo and roses red I am running scared in a field of Thunder for all the love. I must plunder my severed limbs were pulled asunder and put in the window as a Macy’s display; Death comes on beautiful days
Goshdarn Pastoral
When my apartment has no heat I revert to writing like a beat. And when I have no dope I can’t help but write like Pope. & I learn a new language to say “on my knees” In, now that my boss is Japanese So, what have they done to the field I had to …
Ste. Joan of Arc’s Night Out
(Joan of Arc) (Gretchen) King Charles wore his yellow suit. You should have seen the dress Queen Isabel was in. You talk about your putting on for foreign dignitaries. I’ve always wanted Faust to take me there. Well, anyway, I slew the English army. I wore my helmet with the little tassels, you know, the …
in love…
in love… so full of self so empty of self
A Typical Afternoon With Nature
I am walking to the Li’l Arf an’ Annie Pet Shop To get some food for This Newfoundland I share my one room apartment with, And I see a humane society truck Run over a family of deer, And I see a bull Dozer tearing up the forest in order To build the wildlife foundation. …
Persecution
The World’s your enemy, you sigh. Against its stiffened prick, You, like a wildly rearing stallion, Kick. Although you call yourself corralled in it, I see you on your back, Victimious, Cradled in the lies that keep you sick. Sigh, kick. Your delusion’s walls are thick. Your persecutors powerful and Psychic.