Category Archives: Poetry

(after Francis Thompson) Imagine a night sky in the Barrens       without the North Star. Imagine that Zeus had never thrown       Callisto into the sky,

Orchards hang in the evening air, splayed along alluvial bottomland like sagging, vast, corporeal mists, ordered rows of sentient sentinels.

I come not to you with words of wisdom       but with words that unseal doors

On a dark star-filled night I step outside long after the town retires and gaze upward, dogged stillness the analogesic to my soul.

You know the feeling: waking up staring to the right where

Take these incendiaries with you on the trail: let the words themselves be fat and resinous; impregnate the charcoaled ink with paraffin; and may the whole be written upon the scroll

I pause and breathless gasp at stars which loose ten thousand brilliant shafts through narrowed iris, fluoresce cones.

Come, gather ’round and square your minds with an aquiline profile

The love that blossoms from the bud which perishes unfolds forever.