Desert Walker: Finding Poetry

Monday, February 27, 2012

Through tall dried

shrubs, alert ears

hop it’s way.

(2012)

Posted by Unknown at 12:32 PM

One Leg

At twelve, thirteen I lost the reins to my happy goat. Waking I see I’m the one legged child unable to keep up. BFM
Dust Storms

Your elders gloat like lilly pads on a pond under sunscreen and broad hats thousands of miles from their grown children. Then the ...
Storm

Rain falls, words form, sentences puddle. BFM
Coup

Dried pin oak leafs wither till spring when old regimens are ousted by the brighter green. B.F.M.
Behind the Moon

I’m not clever at unlocking doors. Never been clever with hammers, scissors or pails. Not good at unlatching bras, or the mystery ...
Making Mud

I have been a poor collector, abandoning hope after hope enchantment after enchantment charm after charm. Instead I collect woode...
Fly Fishing

The nymph sailed then dropped, playing him the way water plays a river bank, floating atop with a whisper, lips brushing against his cheek,...
Old Man Walker

I watch the old man afraid of gravity, shuffle with his eight legs. I’ve never seen a spider move so clumsy, so slow. B.F.M.
ICEE

Once we lose our top, we’ll slush endlessly into Antarctica. (2012)
Smearing

Our pyroclastic remains litter our once wannabe house. The first great dream is always a bruising lie, l eaving one feeling cornered...

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