these days measure themselves by grunts
from the sleeping shovel-headed dog.
step out of current. waltz back in later
slogging through a rebirth of mud.
grace is not a flawless dance, but
wrapping the arm ’round your flaw’s thin waist
understanding the hunger. measuring pain
on a ruler drawn by pain
grunt in time with the shovel-headed dog
relax knowing the current will find your way back
Category Archives: 2023
this grafting of the new age
anticipation sown in a man’s hip
takes root stretches out up down
this grafting of the new age
onto tired wood
while watching Fall leaves
pile up stripping bare tree limbs
the picture of a new season
brief homily on aesthetic
Time and the river have washed away all of my lyricism. What remains is a poetry of growls and mud.