Category Archives: Poetry

The days run together. Call it diarrhea. Or logorrhea. Once you’ve snapped your pet phrases in two they’re not even half as good as the old days when you were too young to know better than to stretch yourself early … Continue reading →

Time may be a human invention but death isn’t. Should it seem odd that we can even conceive infinity? But without that concept would there be any others? Would thought even be possible? The brain can’t work with limits. It … Continue reading →

Weak blandishment, crude tally, our timecards track hours only. Whatever’s left over is what it is. Or is that what comes before? I can never remember. Half-full or half-empty, who gives a shit if only a full glass will quench? … Continue reading →

Living without incident for days at a stretch yet conditioned to retain a readiness to tighten casual manners— On the rack of good behavior after air-drying jackhammers & linen and then to a sit-down lunch: chopped lion in a lamb’s … Continue reading →