Author Archives: skipavm@gmail.com

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I'm just a seeker

The Grind

Oh, friendsI was quick, too quick,to return to the grind of occupational habit so that here in the mainland of shitevery smile I see curl,every cold beverage that’s raised,is a reminder that for a time,amidst the troughs of this grind,we … Continue reading

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Cambio di Stagioni

Grazed by the sun’s last glance at dusk.A red wine droplet on the table clothspreads quietly,a small scar left by the thorn reminds me…even when the vase is empty,there is still a rose in the garden. It is anguishing to … Continue reading

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A Conversation between I and Though

Through the window, from outside, the two could be seen in notes of moonlight, quiet at times and then one would stir from their lunar gazing, slowly mouthing words, unheard through the glass. There was a sanctity in these moments … Continue reading

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A judge’s advice to those submitting poems

I read up some on those entering poetry contestsDo not write a poem about poetryOr serendipitous love between strangersstanding in line at Peet’s Coffee, Or spoken word… do not wail for others’ causesunless you’re angry with your very own injustice; Write … Continue reading

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These errant eddies of poetry… Words whirl and clatter, collecting in brick and mortar corners Until the wind reminds us Her verses are ever present. #25wtT tis nothing if not heardEmailTwitterFacebook0PrintGoogle

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Invisible as the Wind

This One is invisible as the wind Her signs wave sinuously Her effects are seen in the swaying limbs the robin’s roost balanced in the tabernacle The one clear note in the branches’ babel. She is the glint within the … Continue reading

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Going Home (Costa Rica Series)

I’m thinner now, I’ve no belt holes left, While there is food in abundance, my appetite is always for something else Many a poem is left buried on the beach, and each night as the tide ebbs, these unspoken words … Continue reading

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Exit the Poet

Around her, I wrap my consonance and alliteration like the arms of a wandering lonesome stranger. And upon her ears, I lay aphorisms and missives, manicured lines in a collar of kisses. Her eyes are closed as I recite, her … Continue reading

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Wild

Waiting,  is this poem, a garden in the wilderness,  like She is the Wild within my heart. As Layla is to Majnun, within my madness is Her home here,  our reunion is where we part.   Oh, how wilderness encircles … Continue reading

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Martha Heller’s Wayward Christian Men

Martha Heller took in wayward Christian men I was one of her boarders for a year I wasn’t Christian  but I was in pain and that was mostly why she took us in. She named this place Raspberry Springs.   … Continue reading

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