Choose Not the Firecat, after Stevens’ Earthy Anecdote, a poem by Stephen Fuller
I choose not the firecat, insteadA bobcat, though still it bristlesIn the way of clattering bucks.If being the bobcat, I mustStand with hair up on my…
As the Canadian Geese Fly Over in Formation
What does the man say when he wears a gold lamé ballcapAfraid to commit to the grilled cheeseStraddling the picnic bench, bellyDipping over the side of…
“Like white lace crumbled in night’s hand,” a poem by Stephen Fuller
Like white lace crumbled in night’s hand The snow fell to earth, a warehouse For memories each toile and cordonnet Wove between picots melting away into…
Poem for Sundance, after Fleetwod Mac, Crosby, Stills and Nash …
How do we capture the suite of life:Blue eyes, brown eyes, these eyesSee what the cake tastes, savorEach layer with me, what comes.So, yes, it’s hard.…
We Gather
We gather. Together. Let our masksDown only to take a bite or imbibeA liquored dose of what we need.Our distance adequate for loveTo bloom over other…
Dad, a poem for father and son
After listening to Father Son by Peter Gabriel For Dad, for Bobby, for me I am still trying. A fight still in my eyeThat glistens through…
The Ghost of Tom Burwell
After Jean Toomer’s “Blood-Burning Moon” Tom, come sit with me, ghost.Show me the rage born of loveA kindness that melts awayWith the kerosene artlesslyPainted at your…
The Caged Bird, with audio
Sings louder uncaged in streetsProving a dream deferred doesExplode.Yes, we have found the answerTo a question thatNeverShouldHaveNeededAsking.But Hughes didBecause it didNeed asking.Now we know…The caged bird…
Pause. One (with audio)
Pause. The words have been mine,So much my own they tire me.I can breathe, others cannot and soAnd so…My words tire me; hear others’ wordsTo let…
A Quartet and an Epitaph
Turn your head and… Some days the past comes Breaking the fourth wall Grabbing me by the balls Telling me to turn my head And spit.…
