Poetry Blogs (cowards)

The Drop

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The trouble with telling the truth

is it’s merely a novelty joke,

and the people will come as far as the gasp

then they'll clap as you dance on the rope. 


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Bowl Of Earth

Hey, and now bring me that ladder
As I descend into the bland peppermill
All corns black, with shrunken visage
A crystal glass cracks under the wooden crutch


She walks in the rain, palms direct a flume
Deluge in saccharine amputees, firelight trivia
Storms opened in the swirl of bourbon
A centurion pointed, the thundercloud advances


And as the umbrella detached from the Rolex

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