Monthly Archives: January 2011


If you find
A new Butterfly
Name it after me.
We’ll reflect upon

When we talk,
The designs emerge—
The stem, no vacancy.
The flutter
To remind us of

Speaking in Code

In stacks, we walk surrounded by the glyphs,
Which translated would yield up full their depths,
Obscured and full enveloped by the mists,
Ascending from the desiccated nest,
Which once held wishes denser than a stone,
And now holds nothing solid as a sponge.
The scent of mourning rises from the bones—
Abandoned, newborn babes before the plunge.
A gentle bump, a lesson on a slate—
I beg of you, O Father, finally tell;
Render the inexplicable choate,
Turn into Heav’n, this labyrinthine Hell.
Allow me learn, but only give the key,
This is the most that I can offer Thee.

Sonnet of Just Because

Of art, the hardest stage is creation,
The harshest critic is the empty page;
Transmitting phrases, bold, of elation,
Pity, fear, love, acceptance, boundless rage.
Ev’ry tercet snuffed beneath a dead bell,
Heroic couplets failing epic quests,
Excellent settlement which will sell well,
Symbols graduate to concrete concepts.
So fiery syllables extinguish,
Ants ascending upon a hill of sap,
Fossilized, immobile, have but one wish,
Please, fire, burn, and turn to ash the trap.
Put the pen to paper and with faith trust,
Though hated, we will write, because we must.

Sonnet for a Beggar

Pup who begs from the tile-covered floor,
Does food exist which thou do not desire?
And which, upon receipt, you beg no more,
Do not your tiny lusts ever expire?
And to thee, I compare thy fellow creature,
That feline who, when sustenance desires,
Mews until heard on the highest bleacher,
So someone, for her, sustenance acquires.
But you sit staring, silent as the stars,
Save when a whine doth slither from thy jowls,
Discontent to admire from afar,
That which, within the den, inspir’d howls.
Ah, man’s best friend, tis far too low a price;
To bind thy soul with fallen grains of rice.