Brute facts with no whence,
their preferences “just are”; Continue reading
Poems
Bridges, II
I am no welderer, but a prospector, scout
–these hands uproot obstacles, sift and lift drift– Continue reading
Bridges, I
Have we no more beginnings, ‘s the folio filled,
and the last leaf of that jumbled-up bundle been spilled?
If so, merely shuffle-arrange them until
some resembling-a-story ghosts forth from the chill
When Polish Hides a Pressure Cooker
Self-motion is healthy and natural
(research found means to make this factual) Continue reading
Exhaust
The talented Kindra M. Austin very charitably nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Award. To be honest, I can’t remember the rules: my mind, like my life, is filled with too much else, and I am a shallow pool. To honor the nomination, here’s a poem related to a topic we recently had an exchange over. (As always, my positions are optimistic, but my poem’s tone is pessimistic. Catharsis?) You should check out her site (unless you’re a poor soul who suffers being triggered by intermittent vulgarity, even when it comes with a big heart): her work can really hook you in.
Into the Clarities 