The End of Something
I would never pin this silence
to a board, but her anger tempers
sunset, and my response remains
contained. The paper stars
I nailed to the bookcase rustle
when the door opens. She
swallows wine, I sip tea
and offer no explanations.
“The End of Something” first appeared in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
Poem Ending with a Whimper
The best liar wins.
You can’t stop talking
and the truth embedded in strands
frays with each word slipping
from your cruel mouth.
If I tilt my head just so, I see God.
Or what passes for God at the periphery:
a fly stain on the window, the redness
at the eye’s corner, the shrike’s beak.
Silence fills me daily
and trickles out in utterances and sighs
meant only for you.
Who lies best?
I look to the ground for answers.
What replies is a tail between its legs,
a headless shrug, a whimper.
“Poem Ending with a Whimper” was published in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
The End of Something
I would never pin this silence
to a board, but her anger tempers
sunset, and my response remains
contained. The paper stars
I nailed to the bookcase rustle
when the door opens. She
swallows wine, I sip tea
and offer no explanations.
“The End of Something” first appeared in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
Poem Ending with a Whimper
The best liar wins.
You can’t stop talking
and the truth embedded in strands
frays with each word slipping
from your cruel mouth.
If I tilt my head just so, I see God.
Or what passes for God at the periphery:
a fly stain on the window, the redness
at the eye’s corner, the shrike’s beak.
Silence fills me daily
and trickles out in utterances and sighs
meant only for you.
Who lies best?
I look to the ground for answers.
What replies is a tail between its legs,
a headless shrug, a whimper.
“Poem Ending with a Whimper” was published in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
Wherein I search through debris for that root,
that long foot grasping soil and air, a streak
of forever’s descent. Chain sawing wood
I’ve breathed the metaphor of ash and earth,
have stared at flame, dreamed of water, a wave
of night crashing me through its strong-armed flow.
Among limestone and cedar, shadows flow
past prickly pear shadows, where wild hogs root
among thirsty rocks, and bandanas wave
goodbye to yesterday. Hummingbirds streak
past, defending borders of air and earth,
and I gaze at my stunted, twisted wood.
Soon I’ll leave this plot behind, burn its wood
no more. I will release myself and flow
northward, pulled to a strange land where the earth
grows darker, where no one knows me, and root-
less I’ll stand, but not alone. Birds will streak
the gray sky. I’ll proffer a half-assed wave.
Longing, I think of Hokusai’s great wave
and the insect trails circling my stick’s wood
as I stomp through the knee-high grass, a streak
of diamond-shapes muscling ahead, that flow
between life’s weeds and thorns. My old heartroot
stretches past dawn, star and sky, beyond earth.
When I think of fire, I grasp the light earth
holds, the origins of water and wave,
the sadness of leaving. I will take root
in old ground, find new trees to love, hardwood
to carve and learn from, seek new patterns, flow
between now and then, reclaim luck’s long streak.
Until then I wait, watch that feathered streak
buzz its pendulum course above the earth.
When it’s time, I’ll surrender to the flow,
lie back, let go, accept the soothing wave
and all it carries — losses, secrets, wood —
leaving behind that sad cumbersome root.
The window’s streak contains light but no root.
Leaves flow, too fast to count. The earth
trembles as I stack the split wood. Just then, a wave.
* * *
“Texas Sestina” first appeared in the spring 2020 issue of ˆTaos Journal of International Poetry & Art”
The End of Something
I would never pin this silence
to a board, but her anger tempers
sunset, and my response remains
contained. The paper stars
I nailed to the bookcase rustle
when the door opens. She
swallows wine, I sip tea
and offer no explanations.
“The End of Something” first appeared in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
Poem Ending with a Whimper
The best liar wins.
You can’t stop talking
and the truth embedded in strands
frays with each word slipping
from your cruel mouth.
If I tilt my head just so, I see God.
Or what passes for God at the periphery:
a fly stain on the window, the redness
at the eye’s corner, the shrike’s beak.
Silence fills me daily
and trickles out in utterances and sighs
meant only for you.
Who lies best?
I look to the ground for answers.
What replies is a tail between its legs,
a headless shrug, a whimper.
“Poem Ending with a Whimper” was published in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
My poems “The End of Something” and “Poem Ending with a Whimper” have been published in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
O at the Edges 