Tag: poetry

Confessions: My Father, Hummingbirds, and Franz Fanon

Found this hiding in my drafts. I love finding old snippets and notes- like getting pictures in the mail from last year that you’d long forgotten. With the holidays coming up, I can’t resist but to urge you to support the artists, musicians and poets in your life. You can always buy me a book….


little moth / i do not think you’ll escape

If you don’t get Poets.org’s Poem a Day, I suggest you check it out. Here’s a snippet from a new fave. Passage I by Maureen N. McLane little moth I do not think you’ll escape this night I do not think you’ll escape this night little moth * bees in clover summer half over friends…

look-see: photos for your poetry

Ancient Theories by Nick Lantz A horse hair falls into the water and grows into an eel. Even Aristotle believed that frogs formed from mud, that mice sprouted like seedlings in the damp hay. I used to believe the world spoke in code. I lay awake and tried to parse the flashes of the streetlight—…

poem for a skater – 20/30

I’ve been alot of people already and found out I don’t know who I am. Can you tell me. you’re a skater who loved to be hated, wanted to be a lover and lusted after life. you’d nollie so high, you’d clear three moons in one night. shit, you ate three pies to prove your eyes don’t shine brighter…


A Poem for a Rainy Morning

Tomorrow marks the start of National Poetry Writing Month, when folks gear up to write a poem a day for 30 days- 30/30. In preparation, I’ve stumbled upon and want to share an oldie and a goodie. By Richard Brautigan. DECEMBER 30 At 1:03 in the morning a fart smells like a marriage between an…

A Poem for Summer Coming

Jack Spicer woke my wanderlust soul this morning with a poem. I appreciate the almost beat while staying off the beaten path. I think John Mayer read Jack Spicer. And I think mornings are suitable for thinking and elegies, for  mourning. Jack Spicer is dead. Here is a snippet. Get the whole thing on poets.org….


a perfectionist at 12

Another one from the archives. 3.26.08. Funny how fast we grow and life changes in a year. Would be embarrassing if it weren’t honesty. when i was 8 i wanted braces – i’d make my own with paper clips. when i was 10 i wanted contacts – i’d suck on ice and put it in…

desert poem

From the archives. 2.3.08 if i’d have known you as a Saguero, i’d have hunted for your flowers at night: suckled stamina, swam in scents, and kissed each sweetly good night – before they close in morning (for eternity?) if i’d have known you as a Vampire, i’d have been seduced into the quagmire of…

Poem for your Pocket

Weaving by Paul Otremba I’ve tried to sift a truth finer than salt from my mouth. It matters: I get up or I do not. The books can wait, leaves burn themselves these days, and the day begins or it does not. Now wingless, a wasp masquerading as the sun crawls— more »


Life, friends, is boring

In my pursuit to revisit an anthology of poetry in the mornings, I read some scribbles that made me laugh. “- confessional poet – drown in abyss of self-pity” And so I went on to read an excert from John Berryman’s The Dream Songs. It’s a good picker-upper for the start of any Portland day….