Sorry I'm late.
Yes, I am the stars
and I burn uncontrollably
for you. Just you.
Countless cataclysmic deaths
and gravitational collapse;
this is the state of things.
I am a constant. Ever bright
and motionless. Hung like
silver fish on hooks. Gasping.
And dammit, won't you build
a hyperdrive, deflector shield,
life support and nav-com please?
Boldly go, long time ago.
Come discover me.
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Paint Poem
Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio...
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Day 2 Simple fingers to the string What a little thing to cultivate, unreal as it is; not to be seen or touched but felt, enduring, where so... -
Day Twenty Fantastic style designs on pottery from Hacilar. Image from Yakar 2005. The ancients believed That culture was Construed by pot... -
So, two weeks in and I'm somewhat surprised to find myself sticking at this poetry malarkey. In fact I'm enjoying it very much. To...
Looks like you're off to a great start, poet!
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