Poetry

There's a horizon...
There's a horizon line; past the deep earth embedded, up in rattlesnake territory. Left to right, low to high, it climbs until there is the absence of direction. And above this, in front of this, the trees rooted in the high terra are naked. New England winds, they are blowing through here tonight, while the gravity eats away at her eyes and pulls them down, even while her neck strains upward.She shivers, they shiver, we shiver. The earth skeletals move branches, she has been afflicted with a chronic case of deep cold and her skeletals move with them.We shiver. Lunar crescent and stars, so many stars, more than she has seen since she left for Paris t

flirting with the...
flirting with the violet hours ( pouring forth, indeed). There is a staircase this or staircase that, one wooden expansion following function which we climb yes oh yes we climb towards ...simply, towardswhich was alwaysenough.

making my own dam...
making my own damn sunshine

ponderer, magic wand-erer

somewhere along t...
somewhere along the line she had grown a woman's spine (quiet slippery no noticing sort of way) from young-girl nettingunannounced, but nevertheless in the state of arrivals