my car was towed on a Tuesday “Street Cleaning” says the harbinger, a sign crudely zip-tied to a weathered wooden pillar like some prisoner of war; no-man’s-land, the empty space in front of my apartment,

I had buried the sun into the earth, the moon, nestled tight in clouded dream, my cat left curled before the hearth next to a displaced pot of cooling tea. A hooded lantern and wrinkled staff held by hands

There is a curdle of cheese curdling into smaller beady-eyed mice beneath the benevolent hallow girth of my practicing God, a minimalist fridge.                 It is raining outside, the soft pitter-patter

A small bird is perched on the askew lid of a trashcan, an outpouring of love and use in the alley behind my apartment where I set food for stray cats. Eye me sideways, I am the bird – I whistle a call,

A Poetry Contest enter below your link in the comments to let me know. The rules the rules Need we much? Just a few, they are as such: 1 -use #killerpoetry in the tags of your post 2- upvote and resteem

been walking slower of late letting eyes linger like snow in April keeping pace with kicked stones, Sisyphus is not in my thoughts; do we inscribe trees with our dreams so they may live forever even when

cut a stem for me from the plant in the garden. the plant with white flowers on the edge of a water fountain. the fountain of a cherubim who’s arrow head is iced over. dream garden lost as an approximation

Message in a Bottle #28 Origin: Isle of Write Sender: @bennettitalia Recipients: Steemit Creatives Islander Highlights - Week 7! So many glittery distractions festooning the Isle’s sun drenched shores

Models Hold the Paint for Bus Stop Graffiti Icons Don't follow fashion buy something already out of date. April 3rd, the note on a carton of eggs; a dancing cartoon fox fleeces a boy peering through a

A Poetry Contest enter below your link in the comments to let me know. The rules the rules Need we much? Just a few, they are as such: 1 -use #killerpoetry in the tags of your post 2- upvote and resteem

Blue lines stretch coursing blood through firmament pencil sketches, guided hands thumbing through the tabbed void opening spines and blotting, two dimensions clasped, unclasping three, reveal the thump

vectors of the flock shifting as new birds begin to lead then rounded by indecision wind-chime a spherical bob over the same rooftops. wind in the small of loftiness, with no direction but for prior wingbeat

They grow layers of life without you, a chthonic mark to imprint, a sessile archaism reserved for tenure probing dusty tomes or tactile pen pressed against lips. They grow layers of life within you, an

no one understands                                                 the end of winter                                                 quite like                                                 a well scuffed

To support Caleb's surviving family, his wife Jen and two children, Sydney (7) and Desmond (10) with funeral expenses, visit the fundraiser created for the family linked here. An outpouring of love, grief

We are all puzzles, hands fumbling at crooked lines mouthing a smile out an alligator jaw; your knee, bent like cubes crooked or diamonds spilling from your mouth, tumbling over line breaks or spineless

I could force a sound             accepting yawp             or barbaric sigh             the most compelling             of human experience             standing in a line             the pothole path

Smudges and Smears       The newspaper is illegible: serif crop circle smudges from heaven;                   'Good Morning:             Nothing Has Changed' A reassurance hangover sprawled at every threshold,

We live in unexemplary times, maddened by fear, murderous ignorance and mistrust of one another. I look at the lengthening shadow of violence and intolerance spreading across the Middle East, Europe, and,

the blue flower springs splitting caulk and brick like a chisel hammer striking steel, blue with clouds hanging from creaky wooden rafters cobblestones polished by shoes and the spittle of senile time