Janet Berry followed you on your way to the bus, on top of you, breathing down your neck as you walked ahead like a little egg.

I turned to watch the scene like everybody else, only I wasn’t laughing. I summoned the courage to scowl and shake my head as I turned and walked faster toward my bus. All the while, hearing Janet peck at you, “October, why don’t you talk? Why don’t you say something? Can you talk? Say something!”

Your jack-o-lantern face was mostly eyes. Your mouth was just a thin, thin line as she taunted you, poked you, pushed you. You stumbled and corrected yourself, adjusting your backpack straps as you moved in an unsteady line forward. You kept your gaze moving forward, Read more »

SUMMONER’S TEARS
Here sits the conjuror
Of worlds
On faded lawn chairs,
Bereft of his galaxy.
Drops of liquor and coffee
Blend and form a cascade
Which fall from the wizard’s eyes;
These are the Summoner’s tears.
They taste of talent
And potential
Washed away
By addiction’s course.
They reek of the rotting
Genius, ironically consumed
By the same powerful entity
He summoned from the outworlds.
But they also glisten with divine
Shinning, reflecting the supreme
God that resides within
The imagination of all Summoners. Read more »

For All These Wretched, Beautiful, & Insignificant Things So Uselessly & Carelessly Destroyed…By Hosho McCreesh

Copyright 2008, Sunnyoutside Press

Hosho McCreesh is mad at us. Because we’re dummies. Because we’re big, dumb animals. And we’re missing out on the simple things. The good things. The beautiful things. Because we’re living our lives poorly. We’re being selfish and destructive. Maybe because we think we have no other choice.

I read this book just before I went to sleep, and I was pleasantly wowed. The language is clean, clear, and brilliant. It’s a quick read, with poem titles nearly as long as the poems themselves. There is a sadness and disappointment that runs throughout, but I often found myself jolted by the beauty in which this very sadness and disappointment is detailed.

From the title poem,

“meanwhile a flock of sparrows
banks hard into a bright headwind;
driven heavenward, they flash into silhouette
across the belly glow hum
of the cold, doomed morning sun—

so much,
simply lost
on
us.” Read more »

A Patient Time

A time for waiting,a hibernation
Before we follow through on dreams
Careful planning,with determination
Putting away halfed baked schemes

No day or night is ever wasted
Patience builds slowly day by day
The fruit of forbearance is soon tasted
Sweet as honey where we lay

Suddenly we are engaged in life
Our souls’desire reaches out
And wraps its lasso around the moment
Discarding all our useless doubts

Erotic Fantasy On A City Bus

Vacous eyes staring across the way
Becoming lost in my fantasies and lust
Dreaming up scenarios to escape the day
Escaping boredom on this city bus
I focus on him slithering in his chair
Feeling a desire and longing to touch
Avoiding his glance,he is unaware
of how I desire him,so very much
Suddenly,the bus comes to a halt.
Seemingly occupied,I miss my street
I sprint to the exit,It’s all my fault.
Glad to be away from all the heat.
Read more »