I’ve peeled out the inner part of death
and he was not what he seemed.
His strutting gave lie to fear
and frankly to his wanting, to
filling himself with all that he wanted to be.
Tag Archives: fear
Little bird, beating heart
Door ajar, near
is love’s fear
in safety’s cage
Poetry is my protection
Poetry is my protection against terror.
It fortifies no wall but collapses the one
behind which I find myself cowering.
I’m embarrassed to find myself there.
Poetry is every word in the question,
What are you afraid of?
It leads me outside.
Midnight blue
Love casts out fear
Hence I found myself
three trees from the big house
working my way back
one black trunk at a time
When fear comes it spreads like fire in the dry season
That brief sick hope of escape
is willing grass and the comeliest of tinder.
Where is the rock, the lake?
He’s wide-eyed in a glade
in a smoky wood.
He tries to piss it away, the dirty dream.
And succeeds. The dream isn’t the problem.
Where is your faith, man?
He thinks of all he’s afraid of,
of all the present and future threats.
He checks the clock. And prays. And twists
and turns.
A man’s a man, though a little slow
till he’s swift as smoke in Idaho.
What you don’t want in your oceanfront decor
The sea itself
twisted in a curtain,
waiting
Howl of a hound
In a crayon sky of midnight blue.
You turn white
at the sight
of his teeth.
Again one chooses to presume
that the spider’s bite is not deadly –
that the legs under the bed
have no toxin to share.
A bird flew through
the mind of Christ
and came in search of me.
I ducked in my hole
and peeked through the sticks
to see if he could see.
Utrecht Journal 