Best Gouged Poems

Mi Madre
Lung of Life
Heartbeat of the universe
Birth of consciousness

Mirror of the heavens
Grains of sand
Beneath my tender flesh

How glorious to gaze upon you
I weep with the...

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The shell remains
picked clean by hungry vultures
ravenous with greed.
Gouged-out eyes
now bare hollow sockets
vacant in their stare.
Morsels of choice parts 
deftly stripped or torn away—
and gutted...

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BURIED IN WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING (With apologies to Robert Frost)
Whose woods these are, mox nix to me,
both dead and buried, she must be,
to...

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Oh baneful yellow Moon in fullest rounded sphere,
Bright as Summers Buttercups in abundant yield,
Coldly riveted upon Winters beaten, thin silvered panels;
Thereof: By ye mighty hammer...

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PLEASE DO NOT READ PART II BEFORE YOU HAVE READ PART I! THANK YOU! :)

She had been a modest woman
Had so desired a family
But that...

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she danced at midnight 'top the bluff
        quite high above those ledges, cruel
     ...

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Partly clad
full moon
was taking a bath on hills.
Trees were waiting
for the curtains to rise.

Scented stars would make
giant scars on the clouds,
I would make peace with...

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mossy vines served as camourflage
on a decaying  gravestone, in old graveyard,
time not revealed the names on that stone,
was this the one for which I...

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Boys carry their snow sleds
         up, up
          ...

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I tossed a pebble
in a placid lake and
caused roaring ripples
in the vast seas;

I blew softly on the
breath of a passing breeze
and spawned raging storms;

I gathered...

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The Tear Collector


Tears they fall, sometimes bless-ed
In their burning
Watered reminders of a hearts capacity
To connect emotions
Soft welling they sting
And find their language of wet lashes
Run...

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A broken vase
is mendable
with a bit of glue.

Silver solder
repairs a rip in metal.

New parts often
keep the car running.

A doctor plasters
a broken bone.

New shingles replace
a worn-out...

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These steep hills are part of me
Where I learned to ride a bike
And gazed over the industrial haze
And ice-dammed the steep melting  streets
So the...

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IMPRINTS
(Part 1 of Trilogy for My Father)

His shoes by the front door make me cry,
like his glasses resting atop an
unfinished crossword
and his toothbrush in its...

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These  lakes are scratches 
gouged by glaciers
from rocks new 
when life began.

Life is hard here 
soil  thin, fire common
yet Thompson's West Wind
is but...

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