Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Jazz Moon

Jazz moon shines softly
in the ebony sky
The stars
notes on a staff
of telephone wires
Waiting to be played
by anyone looking up
My love and I walk
measure by measure
beat by beat
down discordant streets
The melody lies
beneath the surface
And we groove
to our own harmonies.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Every Scrap

Life is fragile
You, my friend, are not so
Such a small creature
You have such a
Such a strong grip
on this life-
Claws scratching
Teeth bared
You will not surrender
your gift
until you've scraped every scrap
off the bone.