I’ve been hanging onto this wily one for months.
Started with “sparkle”.
Born out of “anything boiling”
This one borne out of a fear of death.
Born around the words “a bully crowd” and Hillbilly Elegy.
This one is about a boy.
Born from the word “burden.”
Borne from “death”.
Born from the experience of adolescence.
For my son.
My favorite abecedarian. It has lots of cheats.
This church door in Georgetown.
Vitality not happiness is the opposite of depression.
An abecedarian centered around “cull.”
A fresh death.
To my son.
An Abecedarian sequence (mostly) inspired by Emmet Fox and the prologue in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliette.
(An abecedarian sequence mostly).
I am not a poet, but I was convinced last year that writing poetry was good writerly exercise. Cross-training, if you will. Writing poetry in prescribed verse can range from an exciting adventure in wordsmithing to a creative puzzle relaxing your mind before you float off to sleep at night. Words have meaning. Words have sounds. […]
Our plain face betrays the mitochondrial Eve in us. Father is an old word but mother precedes it. Who knows our longing when we first create fathers who eat us? Art answers: where might our conscious brains with lonely hearts fit? In separateness we hold together, like piano keys ‘ melody. Heaven(s) don’t mock us, […]