Poetry Blogs (ghosts)

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Lonesome Backwoods

In the lonesome backwoods behind our vintage house

We buried our souls deep just to have ghosts around.


But phantoms, they startle, howl, scream and weep

Way past their bedtimes because the night doesn’t seep

Into their cavities where they safeguard our souls,

Slick with the glossiest sweats; caskets of gold.


And that’s what they’ll ever be-

Fossilized memories,


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Gypsy Rose

the future has ghosts too

queuing up just waiting

we give them substance

by living dying mating


sometimes you get hints

they call it premonitions

or that indefinable frisson

whatever the definitions


clairvoyant at the seaside

read my palm for sixpence

said I'd wed a gyspy, who

did have a second sense


lit me with superstitions

she could read my ...

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clairvoyantghostsgypsy rosepalmpremonitionsseances

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