these bruised ribs ache to be covered, soul-yearn on the cusp of eternity, a moon cradled in the nest of your stars yes, you are my most precious thought first thing in the morning dawn my beloved best at night, dream-thirst: you tara caribou | ©2020
My review of Beau Allen’s poetry book “The Moon Will Listen”.
i drove to my father’s house in Massachusetts. a group of us made a large dump run for my step-mother. we even pulled the old pool table out from the basement. i held onto one end as a neighbor cut it in half so we could fit it into the trailer i felt a bit […]
My review of Stephanie Lamb’s poetry book “Verbal Vomit and Other Poetry and Prose.”
She is as cold as the Alps. As lonely as a coyote in the desert. As lost as a highland lamb.
My review of Alex Le’Gare’s poetry book “The Side Effects of L.”
tiny dragon sits and waits patiently biding her time curled up within her safe shell of blue with dark uneven spots she rests not in a nest of twigs and leaves or pebbles and mud but instead upon my tongue sometimes I roll her around my mouth (gently, gently, never crushing) she is smooth and […]
I’m happy to announce the release of my second poetry collection, four. Four is 185 pages of black-and-white photography and poetry by me. This book will only be available in paperback through me directly and on lulu as well as in e-book format on Kindle. The e-book releases December 1st and the paperback is available […]
Cast the alabaster referendum Spike the juice, transfix the vanishing liquid Zoom the screenshots, taste the lip gloss Scratch the two percent surface Know nothing, keep the pulse on the dial Seek optimism with self entitlement Wrap your vertebrae around your cell phone Dye the color of mass destruction No dissection, analysis, or an ounce […]
my hair like fire my lips, the wind my breast the sun and a solar flare love blooming, bursting out of my chest x-rays and hard gamma desire lifting my eyes my eyes of the blue ocean swirling, spilling salty lust tears my ribs ache with denial seeking retrieval remembering you thirsty, a blotter begging […]
