Poetry

Off The Wheel I rallied under the wheel the last the very last I knew my breath wasn’t for living not here  where thoughts pave the streets and words ricochet nothing ever leaves us it can  if we want to ...

THE GHOSTS OF TIME The moon so ghostly naked in space, A very inhospitable place, Long thought devoid forever of life Was once the post for some other race. Beneath its surface split as by knife, In hollowed chamber built ...

CRESCENT MOON You reside In this room That stinks Like moonlight And me. Crescent Moon Pries as She is wont To do In rooms That stink Like her light, Where only Silence Is Uttered, Sharper than The silver Flashing In ...

Malnourished mild noon-time breeze, the sunrise clang the bells for ideal men to get to work. (shrug the dust off your shoulders) a poet embraces time by carefully walking a mile. thoughts of her rush in again.. like photography, your ...

fading scars are fading Twenty-five years ago I unloaded a truckful of books. I'd done it a hundred times. Seventy-pound boxes into the back of the store, ten, twenty, before the bolt that jutted from the door handle caught my ...

QUESTIONABLE CHOICE Gathered at the water hole Primates lacking hair. Cover selves from neck to toe Lest reveal what's there. Feeding till they're satisfied, Drinking till they're full. Elders showing sagging hides From the planet's pull. Try imagining these apes ...

Keystones on the ledge, where wisdom cannot factor in for the unexpected; the delusional, the lame duck periods. of self-doubt. of death. The best are full of doubt ridden stasis. and the worst whore their talents around the sin bin ...

The Best Chinese Restaurant he told me their best chinese restaurant was shut - it had been connected by the back wall to a vet clinic specifically for putting down animals. the sad eyes of dogs looking up at their ...

This shallow dish dead center though its glass is commonplace shimmering into mist --it's not the usual birth or that fragrance still moist from the womb, reaching out to be born in the open --you cool this tea the way ...

Poem By SIMON PERCHIK * So you let the water boil as if you were not yet born and already breathing it can barely make out the bubbles burdened by sunlight the way some ancient sea struggles inside, hangs on ...