By The Time I Got To Dublin By the time I got to Dublin, they swept glass bottles from avenue, the cars sat sensibly across the round-about, the clenched fists of '16, of '09 faded from view, their names as... Continue Reading →
Metamorphosis Nine caterpillars on the milkweed Monarchs in the making Nine fairy-tale larvae gnawing Toxic leaves and stems One short of a double handful Gaudy fingers counting happiness Into September’s waning light In a yard grown wild With end-of-season neglect... Continue Reading →
Dialogue What are +++++++my pronouns I have felt genderless for years to be respected in your field is to be +++++++without personal name precluded I would say they are +++++++I am and would not mess with the third person at... Continue Reading →
Inspiration Buffet: This week our buffet features two poems by Curtis Whitecarroll and a few photos by Katrin Baustmann. The Vulture by Curtis Whitecarroll Holding my stitches together well enough to write another poem I have made a mirror on... Continue Reading →
The Setting of Type Knuckles reshaped by letterpress, fingerprints erased by hot metal slugs, inked hands rough and calloused by linotype setting elegant sentences composed by others, under the dim forty watt bulb in the bathroom he mixed water with... Continue Reading →
Limping through Shangri-La My unicorn threw a shoe and sent me sailing headlong through a gentle mist of sun rays and birdsong until I slammed against the stony edge of a lovely double rainbow, colorful as the butterfly I crushed... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 