Best Molted Poems

I had survived how many summers? Five?
Six? 'til, self-taught, I learned at last
of terror that lurks in situations
which those I trust (myself included)
would swear offer...

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Now, life has almost passed us by,
and peaceful resignation reigns;
the beach, a spawning ground of old,
shrieks mournfully in sea gull tones.

The neap tide’s come to...

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A fine mist of rain falls silent 
on his thin, sharp-angled face. 
He picks up the pace and tilts 
his head to the wind. He...

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A light mist of ethereous rain falls 
silent on his thin, sharp-angled
face. He lengthens his stride and 
leans toward the wind. He walks 
through plundered...

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Tonight, the horizon burns like metal 
Molted and shot from a mouth of fire 
The trees stand scorched, coal-chalked pictures 
In the sky hangs a...

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Winter's winking wearily in the sun
gracefully giving ground
knowing Spring will never run

Muted, molted, monochromatic colors turn
vibrant, vivacious, victoriously
welcoming the return

Soft, subtle scents in the air
lilacs...

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To dwell among the ruins;
littered with broken bottles and flattened plastic cups,
stamped out cigarette butts
Cast off lottery binges,
crushed ghetto dreams and empty syringes
Poisoned by so...

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Autumn saunters in
Silent as a new spring breeze
Stirring fallen leaves
Blanketing a cold worn earth
A year of greenery molted

Brisk wind dips treetops
Naked arms stretch fractious
Shivering in...

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How a little ball of molted lead
has changed our nations history
and why they shot him in his head
became a shrouded mystery

Theories popped up everywhere
no suspects...

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sublime quilt 
of dormant shimmers
in lethargic winter sunshine
stretched on shivering earth
as finger caresses of peace.

turning variegated world
into a room filled
with feathers floating from
bursting womb
of sailing...

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On the morning of April 19, 1995, 
Terror was heard through the Oklahoma sky.
 
At 9:02 A.M. the explosion did occur, 
And the blue common...

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We scratched and scrapped and piled it together,
thin as cobwebs, like molted bird feathers,
spread out on the frozen lawn,
a gossamer frosting in early dawn,
a meager,...

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here i am in the flesh
no victim levelled in scope
22 catches im cashing
not selling the dope
i watched the sunrise
used to pray sometimes
kids thatd played outside
tho...

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Sappho Translations II

That country wench bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art’s
hiking her dress
to seduce you with her ankles' nakedness!
Sappho, fragment 57, loose translation/interpretation by...

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broken spirit and wings,
this bird no longer sings.
forgotten are the days of intoxicating flight,
replaced with fears of another fight.

this was a day much like any...

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