Best Tattering Poems

If i could exhale, really exhale,
To expire the rubble of the ages, 
1000 years of dread off my belly,
and my fingertips once so dainty
then could...

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I spend each wakeful night in search of evasive sleep.
    An unwelcomed vigil denies me peaceful rest.
I've need to bury his haunting...

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no more small talk to say in numbers walking the trail
and these are added up and equal now us on the mountain marsh exploring
in the...

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Eastern stars light our responsibility
to ease ridiculously democratic suffering of Other.
Western horizons speak not of suffering
much less death as inevitable failure.

Dark horizons speak of pain,
and...

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imagined by others,
s/he is approached as the
perfect candidate,
s/he is that last 
perfect
puzzle
piece,
which will make the whole
monstrosity,
complete &
not a shred of talent matters,
not a shred of...

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=Pulpit and the Pews=


When she bends
She needed you most.
You reposed
And labelled her-
Flagrant eloquent noise.

Now perceives wide-awake
There and then mews- 
Nothing to say.

Who’s fooling who? 
On...

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Black wings are beating a sharp tattoo,
A-tattering on your skull.
A raven is perched on all of you
There is:  a bone-white hull.

The love of your...

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Let them tell the old lie no more
For we who went out desolate
Desolate returned to the empty shore
Laden with wounds that shall not heal
Deep mental...

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Peace was beyond me the other night,
violence tested me with painful plight,
moseying tricks to loiter and fall,
the notions of proper etiquette's crawl,

See, violence only acts...

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Self-loathing and beating
A dark passage placed
Beneath the old ways
Where darkness dwells
Sadness runs rampant
And depression reigns
I visit this lonesome place
At times when I’m down
It pays to...

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THE TREE COULDN'T FLY

This lonely desolate tree wanted to fly
The southern wind told this strange tree
Go up high with the branches and try
Catch the sun,...

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A silver plane is writing I...LOVE...YOU
Upon that paper called the sky,
And someone down below---I'm sure it's true---
Feels lightly winged and high.

This missile in my hand...

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I.

The rhythm of war is the ancient roll
Of the tattering, martial drum,
The slick of the boots—and the perfect salutes—
The drummer boy’s dum-da-dum.

II.

The lyrics of war...

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The angry sea tosses,
waves on a jetty of stone,
at the edge of the great square.
Under a dark and torn sky,
the wind screams and moves,
lifting the...

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