I saw four, maybe five
lightning bolts, and then
a man walked by with a chair.
He was sure, one hundred percent
sure of what he was doing.
He didn’t sit on the chair.
A ghost did. The ghost explained everything,
and everything was perfectly clear.
Tag Archives: poetry
Razorblade cocktail
Our potent mix of disgust and desire
Wind
Having seen all that it touched,
I see why they call it withering
Windmill on the A2
Blades on trucks
on the freeway at night
gliding will turn
but never in flight
Candle
I’ll lie
before it a bit.
I need
the comfort of it.
Over the river, through the wood
Death shadows us
This pouring down
Every drop is a way back up
Don’t read this for answers
This problem of not being
who you are will not be
solved here where
the wind will blow you
from the bike
G is for God
G is for God.
G doesn’t
sound at all like God,
but “God” doesn’t sound like God
either. God is the one
cupping her ear not caring.
The bicyclist was is and ever shall be
His passing is from
the pedaling that’s done.
His pedaling makes
the passing we’ll see.
Utrecht Journal 