Posts tagged ‘American Poetry’

March 6, 2015

a thought it was

One time you had a thought,
One time you didn’t;

The difference is:
it happened.

Now understand:
It was.

March 5, 2015

Jessica’s People Today

“My Goal is
My Home.”

February 23, 2015

bandwagon

I once met this “poet”,
He hadn’t written a single word—
It’s been years since then,
He bears the same rank and title.

February 21, 2015

A Midwestern City

A Midwestern city holds its frozen contents—
These hardened pieces go about on their own.
Uniquely conditioned to unforgiving climates;
Still those passive parts make up the whole.

February 13, 2015

Hot Bagel

Bagel,
too hot
for hands,
with cream cheese melt;
how you entice
me so.

No matter,
it is early in the morning
and I am hungry,
into my stomach
you must
go.

February 11, 2015

Out of the Everyday Ordinary

Our days can be acutely measured:

Bus schedules, warm showers, and brushed pearly teeth,
A bag full of books to read, a cigarette, and a high priced coffee—

Between

The
Texts assigned,
And the texts read.

Between

The
Messages sent,
And the ones in our head.

It is:

Ticking around daily as a fine-tuned clock,
How out of the everyday ordinary it is to get lost—

January 25, 2015

Naive

Fickle love’s passing fate,
Seen a wretched cold world;
Sweet birdsong of the wind,
And a blouse lay unfurled.

January 22, 2015

On a Street in the Metro

The remnants of this weather on the ground;
Chemicals on a slick, snow plow.

January 14, 2015

En Route to Belfast

Sheep and bus drivers,
The left side of the road;
Minutes from Belfast,
Center to North we go.

January 11, 2015

A Sunday Walk through Dublin

On the streets of Dublin razor-wire hangs from fences.
Seagulls and Magpies dive in headwinds, this sentiment.
From a far off land noting the usual; on the corner is a café,
In the streets are double-decker buses, along the River Liffey
The needy sit, cups in hand, shaking; while padlocks affix
Bridges dressed in rust, only to express an undying love.
On a normal walk on a normal day, thousands of miles from
Home, just on my way – away. I walk to the store for toiletries
And a view. I find a thrift shop and enter to the land of Oz.
Across the street is Religion; with a paper in hand I watch those
Exit from the church, off of their pews, they walk through
The traffic stepping to, righteous, holy, and unamused.

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