#smallpoems Poetry picks at pretentious poses of prose, Exposes holes taking tolls on truths no one owns how one knows what poetry is semantics,syntax antics , and panics, which flow through dry beds of borrowed meaning as truth escapes in soundscapes and blank space where adverbs once inhabited. no thesis to please us but truth honed on stones of emotional
#smallpoems People will ask me what a poem means and I will say, "What I needed it to?" And hope they walk away Yet they gawk at each allegory. A hawk hunting on gales of hidden truths like each stanza a tattoo on my soul and they rudely ask, "Wha'ts that mean?"
#smallpoems This Good Friday I seek shelter behind a rock it didn't block no cave or nothing Just the wind Micha trespasses through quartz and limestone of a foot rest Journal splayed, like thoughts over knees Then finally as the third stanza rises the sun comes out again
#smallpoems When you find you way to Sheepskin Hollow After the bridge; the one spanning a crik pointing first to the lake and down to our Tidal River You will see a wooden stake. Chevron carved deep and painted blue. Stay right After walking awhile a crest of one hill really You will come across if you look closely a blue marker absconded a painted wooden b