Best Lodged Poems

Blindly.. 
I beseech you
for my eyes won’t adjust
to this shaded maze of despair -
neither the lantern’s flame 
nor a compass rose can help me now
in...

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Love is an authority.
It dictates choice and consequence
and joins together all the wayward lamenters
who grieve at their loss of purity.

Love is an actuality.
It breathes new...

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What wondrous goal makes tiny planet Earth
   a stepping stone in life's eternal sea?
What spectral promise gives its journey worth
   as...

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This evening called passion 


“Moonbeams now blushing ‘pon soft heavens ashen, 
love flowing deeply, this evening called passion” 



Ensconced in effervescent lingerings
sifting through moonlit seams
Soft...

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I wish I was...

I wish I was...the sun
so I could keep you warm...
my heat would dissipate your storm
I wish I was... the sun

I wish I...

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Ghosts have all but abandoned this lonely place. It's just me here. The cold, drizzling rain is relentless, yet calming somehow. Marble stones lodged in...

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Inarticulate as the morning air when it flows to and there 
this cognitive essence of rebirthing, is a true blessing 

this knowledge that perhaps didn't...

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I wish to
Relay
To all of my people the importance of sticking together as a 
team

And that
Because we have run 
through the preliminary trials as selfish...

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Soliloquio del Individuo by Nicanor Parra, Translated by T. Wignesan


(Homage to Nicanor PARRA, 1914-2018, the Chilean ANTI-POET, winner of the "Cervantes Prize" (the highest literary...

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I got lost in an emotional maze,
anxiety draining body and soul;
stumbling blindly within a foggy haze.

Staring into your eyes, like in a daze,
lamenting the innocence...

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You'll not see determination
like it...

this spirit sailed across
seven seas...

even as a child I fondly
recall it...

I knew I was different...
for what I believe...

for instance rich kids
down...

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Nyx opened black arms
threading her twilight fingers 
and cradled my awe 
to turn my hair, white  
she filled my eyes with stars
firing a comet...

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Raven was Death. She dwelt in death. She lived on death. Ages past, she had worn 
the blue-black, purple, feathers of the raven and dined...

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 [Poem read at Sekoto’s inhumation ceremony at the Neuilly-sur-Marne-93 Cemetery, near Paris. Channel 4 in London recorded the reading as they did the funeral...

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She counts the seeds
Of my pomegranate heart
The same, always the same
No matter how many times she counts.
Her fingers are stained 
And though she may wash...

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