November Poem 9: The Creeping Vines of Verse

I needed to write for my daughter and

The blood on the porthole that was covered

In Neosporin. But that style of

Writing comes from the black volcanic beach

Sand in the decorated card that I

Always keep in my vest pocket on the

Days that I feel the need to dress well. But

When real men come down to real writing it

Is time to get some man style robot-

Suit sleep to calm the clink and chunk offered

By impulse sensibilities. Sure I

Could brainstorm a stand of trees that clicked pay

Now on the creeping vines of kudzu in

Autumn nights, but who has  time for all that?

November Poem 7: Marina (Part 8)

I woke up to throbbing pain and matted

Blood. I rinsed my hand and the new bar of

Soap in the sink and then began to rub

The bar against the ragged flap of skin

On the back of my hand. I watched the white

Bar streak red before it began to build

Up a pink lather. And I watched the blood

And soap and water drain. And I was done.

Now, I had been sober for more than a

Year. I met with my ex-wife again. She

Called for our daughter who wouldn’t come.

That night, I looked out the porthole and saw

A drop of blood that I had missed, and I

Watched the moon shatter on the windblown waves.


Marina (Part 7)

Marina (Part 6)

Marina (Part 5)

Marina (Part 4)

Marina (Part 3)

Marina (Part 2)

Marina (Part 1)

How I Write: a Walk Through

November Poem 6: Marina (Part 7)

I looked out the porthole and pressed my hand

Against the wall to stop the blood. The wall

That I had scraped and painted for him. For

His dream. The dream that he had left in my

Hands for me to squander. And here it was

My blood painting the walls. But the view out

The porthole remained unchanged. The lights still

Shone their spotlights on the docks with their boats

Tied and floating on the soft rise and fall

Of the water in the protected cove

Of the marina, and the moon still hung

In the sky painting its reflection on

The water. And then I thought I knew why

It was that Jimmy had so loved the sea.


Marina (Part 6)

Marina (Part 5)

Marina (Part 4)

Marina (Part 3)

Marina (Part 2)

Marina (Part 1)

How I Write: a Walk Through