Category Archives: Poetry

so much for something and you’ll probably want to break up the good set   plus side that’s your cup but I’ll need the blue saucers for the bon bonsai   when I go ghost towns via copter who at you shall throw pottery

I’m guilty myself but suppose you’ve not drunk among better friends   that as past worth have o’er the peace that work at hand bitten so to please   the hungry riffraff on the second hand a hook and a proper fool

acumen you call the center’s fascination moor’d to censorship   no laughing matter for the weather whet your thumb near an aqueduct   and the photo sell at a fountain you prefer in Copenhagen

from ago I sat with O risen Orion bullets in my belt   my fond hound below a foothill for his pillow that until exile   to the Strangers West where the morning tips a cup and I learn to thirst

one foot from hunger scratch tin box all night north a saddlebag   where as is well done at a spring in an expanse it may bottom out   as the rain alert without reason the dust falls o’er a rime of salt