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Poetry
Pablo Tariman Spotted at Gourmet Gypsy Café
come to me in the high notes
of an oboe amidst the din of
a cafe turned concert venue
for in your hands & vision
every place can sacredly
contain the tunes that
let tears freely flow
into one's cup or
your goblet of red wine
deficit concerts, you called them,
gatherings of...
The Bliss of Old Socks
I toss brand new socks back and rifle
through drawers for solace and kindness
The old ones surrender and smile at me
the garters have given up they are
indolent around the ankles while
flesh peeps through threadbare cloth at the heels
Neckties hang in the order they were
hung...
Risen
All that I've got is a sinful heart
I am offering. What is it for a cloak in you
that I wanted to be clothed in?
Blessing is only for the poor, widowed
and miserable. But there is a peeping hole
even in the darkest cave. An entrance
to...
While I Still Can
Let me, please
I beg of you
Let me catch the whiff of fresh air
Against my cheeks
The first ray of sunshine
As new day breaks
As it kisses the grass
Green on my barefoot
Before it filters through
The stained glass windows
Bearing memories of a blurry past
Let me step...
On Womanhood
Being a woman
is thrust upon you.
You walk under stars and suddenly
casually,
make a fist in your pocket and
hold your key—like
a weapon.
It is keen awareness
of fabric length,
and clenched assessment
of skin, padlocks, mirrors, stopping cars,
of home routes, and drink offers.
Being a woman is weighing
the chances of...
Birder
In celebration of the October 4 feast of St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of the environment and all of God's creatures.
Eyes follow the sound
Ears scan the foliage
Breath on hold
Heart gripped still
Mind wiped clear like the sky in the lake
To await
The moment
The presence.
A...
