Deer

low winter branches deer caught in broken shadows fractured...

Time Was . . . . .

We have dropped time, history lies broken on the floor the mirror of minutes lies shattered on the floor the egg of hours lies splattered on the floor the urn of epochs lies scattered on the floor. A shout goes out; “Help, someone repair time.” All the King’s horses...

Death & Good Cheer

I’ve received a complaint about Poetry Breaks Things. Too much talk of death, too many poems about dying. Too gloomy. Too morose. Cheer up a bit already, I was told. Be a little more positive. That would be hard to do, since (1) I am positive I am going to die, and...