Month: July 2013

Sand Handle

We pulled on the handle And went down to live with the crabs, Burrowing in four-feet deep To crusty water, the smell Of ocean death and pincher, Taste of ancestors crowding darkness, The message of being sunk Foundering us in the brine. I have…

Message (Poem) in a Bottle

If you find one of my poems in a bottle, post a response below. Where did you find it? What do you think of the poem? Do you have a poem in return?

The Elder Blackberry

The ones that hide out Til late July know their mission Will succeed—that they will instigate A smoky smoothness in the mouth, Compel the body to relax Into a remembered time of endless Feasts in a sun-cooked field.

Percival

 “ . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . one night my vow Burnt me within, so that I rose and fled, But wail’d and wept, and hated mine own self, And even the holy quest, and…

The Wind That is All Things

In the wind that is all things Everything you can taste And touch And hear And smell, The salt sweeps horizontally Across the lunar landscape Of western Oklahoma.