tapas
the other girls were only tapas good for a drink or two you are a five-course feast (originally published in Three Line Poetry)
the other girls were only tapas good for a drink or two you are a five-course feast (originally published in Three Line Poetry)
Half raisin, half grape holding fast to the vine, we’ve nursed our petty ailments like newborn pups and survived another year. We raise our cups of wine and give thanks for reaching this season, for living long enough to… Read more ›
the fog crept in like a stealthy cat balanced on the mountain tops and swallowed up the view the evergreens and snowy peaks vanished like illusions and he felt he was the last man on earth stranded on a… Read more ›
Young hearts in old bodies produce beautiful bouquets Where gnarled roots cross mimosas bloom. The solitary crocus which pierced the frozen ground when we first met is ready to be plucked and woven in your hair We wed as… Read more ›
Come in and shut the door. Don’t step on the rake or send the circular saw flying This is where I store next to the seed and motor oil all my failures the projects begun but never completed the tools… Read more ›
After searching for a mattress on the web for over a month, sifting through reviews and forums, reading the litany of kudos and complaints, he began to see his whole life in terms of ratings. He missed the five star… Read more ›
We are two watches set for different time zones. I steal across the bedroom like a thief pants draped over my arm shoes and socks in hand while you sleep on. I clean up after lunch while you sit… Read more ›
La Latina is a doting hostess in the kitchen, a puta in your bed at night, a paragon of cleanliness who scrubs the counters clean with Lysol wipes, a marathon talker who calls her sister twice a day to discuss… Read more ›
hunting for the elusive Mot Juste he was assailed by swarms of Tired Cliches and swallowed whole by the Great Mundane (Originally published in Three Line Poetry)
I’m sitting across the desk from Dr. Yusef Ben Yakov describing my dream about murdering my brother. He is wearing his alpaca cardigan of many colors. A photo of Portifar’s wife inscribed sorry it didn’t work out sits next to… Read more ›