Words
Bukowski, again
oh holy poetic
father
your long skinny soul
scrawled across the backs
of thousands of naked spines
and how each drop
of battery acid
dripped from the dots
in the eyes
and the...
Death-Bridge Keeper’s OTHER Five Questions (THREE Questions!)
To WHAT,
from what,
is time a bridge?
Of WHO
and WHAT
is that bridge a carrier?
To WHAT
do the people
and things
the bridge carries
across
and back
throw up
a collective
— and insurmountable —
BarRRier???
Born...
Black White and Blue Lives
Screams and shouts, full of hate
“To once again make America great”
“Don’t forget all lives matter” are the cries.
How can we believe that when every...
Excerpt from Postscript #29
There have been more baby ghosts lately with few fit for heaven. The air in the room is toxic. The government feels threatened thinks...
The Hawk Upon the Garden
The robins flutter-bathed cautiously around me.
I on the lounge, I laid with my book.
The wrens fluster-sung to my proximity.
The chicks demand-chirped from their nook
inside...
The Gift Inside
Surprisingly dominant
the hard world —
flags and batons,
limos and air-conditioners,
mounted mooseheads,
bullets.
Our soft bodyshells
must conform or be shed.
Yet the totems
within our heads
are not lampposts
without lamps.
Nothing the...
hewn and hallowed
full moon poetryjagged and rawbleeding from the woundsof an ancestral saw
back and forth as it goesthrough the passage of timewith these hands, grandfatherthat cannot...
Tell me again
I am the tinker-toy derelict in the corn;you are the plucky jalopy in the public pool.I mean to say, meet me in the delicatessen;leave...
Small Window
I
discern
a
tiny
space
in
one
of
fifteen
minutes;
two
days
later,
I
deduce
which
one,
approach
it
and
peer
inside
(can’t
tell
whether
it’s
bright
or
dark),
hoping
to
glimpse
a
poem —
or
the
closest
edge
of
one.
Jethro McClellan was born in Boston, moved out West before he turned five, and has called Boulder home for most of his life....
Understandable
Uppermost in almost anybody’s mind these days
(Not to impute Platonic shape to space)
Desire (as if it were a thing) will blaze
Entre nous anew, prognosticating...
