Short Wombed Poems

Though much maligned, patiently, I wait
for the fall of beauty to be enthralled
and rest within my iron gate, 
where love and innocence is recalled.

I have wrapped your hull in gentleness
and adorned your amorphous soul,
entombed, in wombed, guardian I, rock you 
bringing fond memories which coalesce
and ensorceled lullabies to this knoll.
Dark is the glamour which bids you adieu....

Read More

There is no word for the barn-burning
Dream I didn't have in my mouth,
Tasting like blade, running like blood,
Through the inlaid veins of the kite.
There is no dictionary writing at the tip
Of the inky quill of time suspended,
Time adorned, time wombed and born.
The rose swallowed the bee ant the sting
Burned a whole, the size of a day apart
Into the heart of the vowels running amok
The seesaw earthiness of the ethereal self....

Read More