The Hawk… glides over treetops and rooftops, encroaching upon city limits, ignoring carefully crafted boundaries between civilization and nature as if there wasn’t a difference between the two at all. I don’t often notice its sorties into the realm of… Continue Reading →
I’ve Moved Out (a Golden Shovel, after Hafiz as translated by Daniel Ladinsky) Shall I look to some mothering God to soothe my pain and kiss my heart-aches or shall I, gutted by the barbs of your words, have nothing… Continue Reading →
Self Help Ghazal The man of me and boy left behind went digging for redemption but were scared off by shadow thugs before we went deep enough. A few laughs with some bears in drag and a naked slip ‘n… Continue Reading →
The Abecedarian Menagerie (or why one shouldn’t hire an ataxophobic zookeeper with an alphabetical obsession) Alligator and antelope, enough already? Baboon and badger might be a boon, but not boas and bobcats. Camels, capybara, and caribou I suppose will do… Continue Reading →
Growing Up A child giggles with glee. Bubbles float chasing chasing bubbles caught Pop! Gone. Bubbles, giggles, a child with glee. A youth disdainfully grasps futility within soapy spheres. Futility bursts fragile bubbles. Futility grasps a youth disdainfully. … Continue Reading →
The Little Stone Chapel 1 Door to little stone chapel opens. I fall into unknown worlds shouting “There’s gold here somewhere!” Balboa hacks through jungle primitives to reach this monument to emptiness erected from head-sized stones after Medusa seduced an… Continue Reading →
Alone, in a crowd Dance beats, thump thump thump, consume, mesmerize, strike fear in my soul. Graceful undulations, writhing slender bodies entrusted to the universe, heart and flesh harmonized in sacred rhythm, if only for an instant, evoke lustful envy…. Continue Reading →
Martha Dustin “On March 15, 1697, the salvages made a descent upon the skirts of Haverhill, murdering and captivating about thirty-nine persons, and burning about half a dozen houses.” – the opening line of Hannah Dustin’s story as told by… Continue Reading →
When threatened Blue ballpoints, bin one. Black, bin two. Red, three. Green, four. Purple ballpoints, blue fountains: there are only four bins. Place on floor. Stomp. Scoop. Discard. Frightened, the world careens out of control. God forbid we get a… Continue Reading →
Ode to a Comforter Spirits of martyred geese, beautiful honking shitting machines, haunt my dreams on long cold nights envelop me in warmth. ©2017 Kenneth W. Arthur
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