Author’s Note: In poetry class in college, we attempted different forms. This is a sestina. Sestinas are a pain, where you choose six words to end each of the six lines of a stanza, and these words rotate through the lines of each subsequent stanza, until you use them all…
A sonnet I wrote for my wife’s birthday years ago: I find at times all words as lengthened shadows, Distorted views of figures clothed in light— As a jewel set upon a ring, its brilliance bright, I cut my words to capture what I know. But how to write what God…
One of my rare poems, dug up from the archive. ~~~ The jewels of heaven Are scattered dust, Our struggling, strutting Tome of triumph, A napkin note. The sum of symphonies, The corridor of conquest, The ceaseless creative act of civilizations, Is not one divine utterance— For with a word…
words resound like operatic orations, a natatorium’s vibrations, nugatory noises conducive to connotations despite dubious denotations. It’s galimatias of the grandest kind! A gauche gallimaufry of alphabetic signs! Alas! Alack! The verbal rack Of words interred in eons past! I am fain to flaunt this idioglossian resurrection, for I’ve no…
Another poem from the archive. This was the first sonnet I ever wrote. Maybe it’s not a good sonnet, but still, it was the first sonnet I ever wrote. That has to count for something. Your eyes are glue drops caked with pixie dust, the ones you used to make…
A poem from the archives that tries to capture some of the emotions I feel while listening to the eternally wonderful remix “Glow Worm Jim.” In the morning when I wake, I lift my eyes, I raise my arms: What’s the ground to me but the soul’s battlefield? Light is streaming through…
Author’s Note – This poem is from deep in my archives, written in the early 2000s before the Muppets were a thing again. It’s far from being a great poem, but it’s fun, I think. Kermit the Frog is dead, too burdened to get out of bed. His agents came to…