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Lycanthropy in the Age of Reason

Listen to the audio: http://www.cinchcast.com/raysharp/142701 *   *   *   *   * Darkest day of the year when the sun skids a shallow arc across the icy south horizon. Moonrise over black spruce swale...

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The Glade

After many years in the wilderness far He came unto a forest glade And there he found beneath a star A love that God and Man forbade. A creature stood in the clearing there The most beautiful girl he’d...

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Salt

Sweat of my brow, briney sea, coppery taste of choked down blood, tears and tears, salt in my wounds. He salted the fields, we both know who, and still they dragged him to the war of his suggestion, or...

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All My Poets Are Anemic

All my poets are anemic. They drift down the river of days on blood barely thicker than water. They are peckish and peake’d, hungry and gaunt, irritable and pale and tired. They need bloody red meat,...

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All My Poets Are Zombies

I have a poem, In the Dunes, published at The Camel Saloon: http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/2012/01/in-dunes-after-reading-sheltering-sky.html All my poets are zombies. They drift down the river of...

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Oh to Feel

The old gods spoke through the crows in the trees, the tongue of flame, the wind that stirred the ashes, but I do not know the words the vireo sings in the mountain ash above the raspberries. In the...

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Haiku 13.47

If you prick me [sixteen point four hemoglobin] do I not bleed?

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A Poem Published

I have a poem on the Mad Swirl poetry forum. I had forgotten about it, a nice surprise. http://www.madswirl.com/content/poetryforum.html Do you like it? Tell me what you think. Thanks, Mad Swirl Editors.

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February, Remembering June

The old gods spoke through the crows in the trees, the tongue of flame, the wind that stirred the ashes, but I do not know the words the vireo sings in the mountain ash above the raspberries. In the...

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