Archive for short poem

In The Alley

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on May 9, 2022 by dc

Between the bird song
And the dirt,

Beneath the
Leaves in the alley,

Where the broken glass
Hides its secrets,

Glinting in
The morning sun
Like a child’s stolen treasure,

We found a new excuse.

Skeleton Burrito

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2021 by dc

Under a sky mouth wet,

Dipping into earth,

An invisible hand
Slowly lowers
The skeleton burrito
With a sigh.

A sweat forms and rains,

A silence pickles
And a summer steam rises
Like moist ghosts ascending
From a hot, painted plate,

Saintly and sweet
With sour songs;

An appetite gifted.

Raising the Stakes

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 15, 2021 by dc

I’m like a dirty magazine
Stuck in bush,

Beaten to a bench
By a royal flush,

Rolling to the kerb
Like I’m marble dice,

Taken by the sight
Of a broken Christ.

Turn Towards Sleep

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 22, 2021 by dc

A fruitless contemplation
Instilled with desert flowers

And thirst.

The smell of salt in the sand,
A twisted sun griping
Above the horizon,

Old faces in the canyon rocks
Looking away disgusted,

Huffing their puff in the wind
As I crawl,

As I call out a dry cough
And turn towards sleep.

Nothing circles,
Nothing rattles,
Nothing creeps.

That New Kind of Lunatic

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 6, 2021 by dc

Gorging on conspiracies
Like a wide-eyed fox in a bin,

He’s shrieking his fights at the moon
Like a gout ridden Nostradamus,

The sky will burn at forty-five degrees!
Fire approaches this great new city!

He’s that new kind of lunatic,
Spent in the smoke of a burnt hippy dream,

Kabbalistic gibberish
Drugging all his wayward thoughts,

Living in the holes where the news once sat
And ploughing through the rubble.

His Thumbs

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 28, 2020 by dc

All we can remember
Were his thumbs,

They looked like

Two huge
Chewed teats
On a cow’s
Ageing udder,

Lost at the sides
Of his hands,

Two disfigured

Whenever he spoke;

His words
We can never recall.

Everything Is Quiet

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2020 by dc

There’s just
A sauntering cat

Looking for some elasticated
Moonlight to bathe in

And purr out it’s
Soft acapella;

I’ve ignored the news,
Spoken with friends
And simplified my footsteps,

Everything is quiet.

Anxiety’s Buds

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 28, 2020 by dc

Anxiety’s buds
Ripe and sticky as they bloom
Viscous and timid


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 17, 2020 by dc

Spinning in
Our monologues,

Pretending we’re
An epilogue,

Everyone’s an

These days.

This Island

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 16, 2020 by dc

I do not know
Where all these
Memories go
When we turn
Into dust,

I like to think
Our footprints
Are cyclical,

And this island
Is echoing.