Detritus from a busy mind.
Maybe grab a broom?
A dustpan?
I don’t know.
We’ll work it out.
Latest Posts
fractures (with apologies to william carlos williams)
If you search for “poems about broken arms”you’ll find the words of amateurs,mainly,But who is a pro at this?Are the missing plums from the iceboxA metaphor for the ligamentPulling my bone until it snapped?Snapped,Forgive me.Forgive me? They were soSoSo I’m going to ask you a lot of intrusive questionsAnd I’m so sorryI just don’t want…
Arnika
I claw at the ragged edges of sleep,curled up in a ball on the cast-off loveseatat the end of my bed,while you sleep soundly, legs akimbo,on the mattress. What conversation is there to be had?What rest is there to gain? I loved until my lungs were bruised.I loved until my blood ran clear. I’ve nothing…
“If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy.”
Such pains evade the eternally ephemeral—the ones only landing lightly,A brush against a cheek so gentle you’d almost think you’d dreamed it.So soft.So fleeting. We landed too hard this time,The both of us.Left an imprint on your faceScraped your noseSliced your chin, just there. Just so. And me, as much the worse for wearBruised down…
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Undusted Corners 