We are washed in the
superheated blood of
experience, driven like
mad things and cattle
at stampede against
the strongest wind
We are bitten by the
teeth of our passions
and the hungry fangs
of all the other wolves
in the pack, alpha to
delta and up again--
Reborn as the cold morning
cracks, left with scars,
burned by the heated
blood, pierced by fang
and talon, finding only
a confused ambivalence
with which to nourish
us as we run ever further
into the hidden horizon
of the future.
Somewhere Beyond the Wheel
A Haibun The sound of the hawk’s talons as they click against the cement floor is sharp and crisp. The raptor moves carefully, head duc...
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We have been dreaming in unison but those dreams have fallen into disrepair, eaten away by the persistent rust of the many days here...
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This ringing silence this house, once filled a place of voices now gone silent, a place that once echoed with the laughter of the...
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Note: I taught a poetry class at Fyrecon this afternoon, and we did a few challenge poems during the participation segment of the class. Th...
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