Sunday, October 26, 2014

Morning After

We become the Quaker on the oat box.  

Androgynous.  Buttonless. 

Breakfast on over-buttered toast,
common marmalade;
Cheerios from unwashed bowls,
lukewarm milk.  

Thee and me.

Beige friends, carbohydrates
in dressing gowns. 


Too unawake to notice
if we dawn as man or woman. 

tk/October 2014 

Lovely read by R.A.D. Stainforth...

Sunday, October 19, 2014


This autumn finds you
removed from anyone who knew.

Only the maple is at your mercy;
its leaves crunch around the stone
with enough respect.  

I no longer panic about the cracks.
The uncomfortable damp.
Something from the basement
is buried with secrets.

The dreams have stopped.
Your eyes stay in their sockets;
two dark-stained walnuts,
bitter and tenacious.
All the dead are pious.

It suits you.

tk/October 2014

Perfectly delivered by R.A.D. Stainforth...

Sunday, October 12, 2014


Careful consideration shows
traces of underdrawing.

Off-center.  Awkward.
Seed pearl tears dot the canvas.

Then a change of mind: 
brushed over with another venue.

Layers of new whitewash
show the transparency of my skin.

I look taller.  Three-dimensional.
Someone stands close behind.

There are curtainless windows.
Plenty of blue, because it is now.

tk/October 2014

R.A.D. Stainforth enjoys a glass and reads my poem...

Self-portrait by Vivian Maier 

Sunday, October 5, 2014


They spy at windows,
pound open the door. 

Poems are mistaken for sorcery,
intuition as heathen.

There is trial, ordeal by water; 
evidently, I float.

I bob the surface,
fetal against frothy black.

Wicker is made to order,
waist-high nest with a stake. 

They march around me,
army of preoccupied sheep.

Have you any wool?
I decline the blindfold.

Then comes smoke,
my eyes like a startled horse. 

tk/October 2014

A masterful read by R.A.D. Stainforth...