Born of the Garden

3 notes


Some drops fall from a wire
tree into a pad of sop becoming
transparent with slow hours.
Water sifts through mud and
dribbles at drool’s pace by a road
that is only unsaturated where wheels
do not stamp liquid mixtures in.
The town is recolored.

Filed under poem poetry writing april spring thaw

7 notes


Dinging shallow bells
the approach of meaty combatants
springing limbs at each other
butcher slapping
applause of tossed cutlets
heat from the focus
gelled as the skin is pounded
so thin as to break
a simple dance to test and
A pillowed battering of the
head until a jolt empties its
bank momentarily and it
is impossible to remember
how to stand, enduring each
impact, and the body’s poised
like a crescent hand on
a thigh
ready to gesture that this isn’t defeat
although it certainly is

Filed under poetry poem wriiting boxing fighting