by phoenix | Feb 15, 2017 | Poetry, Political
(With thanks and gratitude to Robert Borden) 1. 2017 was a good year for fear, a good year for screaming Not like some other good American years but it slid out of A year of celebrity death and televised suffering that we were all Only...
by phoenix | Feb 1, 2017 | Poetry
Step out with me — the rocks and the waves are calling and I have something to show you. Step out with me — the ocean is singing to me, songs of spiral shells, seahorses, anemones and brine. Step out — you’re safe with me. It’s almost midsummer,...
by phoenix | Dec 7, 2016 | Poetry
I My daughter is stretched out on white sand, feeding the ocean. She says she is taming the sea — its wildness nibbles at her fingers. We have seen no dolphins today, nor any stingrays nor whales nor anything bigger than spiky brown coral that has...
by phoenix | Oct 12, 2016 | Poetry
Rough-cut paper tells you it’s a first edition and the must takes you back — Years spent, nose down. Ink-smudges and fountain nibs, the romance Of Umberto Eco and sharp-edged medieval scores. There’s a deep Connection through time to these...
by phoenix | Sep 15, 2016 | Poetry
Long fingers and silver rings; that rhythm; that flight Of forefinger down a string; that tap of the fingertips Against the golpeador — one of your legs is crossed over The other and it all disappears but for the music. That slight frown on your brow as...
by phoenix | Sep 15, 2016 | Poetry
His mother painted it, in another life. It is small — less than half a metre across, not quite square. At first glance, it’s nothing but greys, as if it could be Some 19th century industrial cityscape or Soviet town, But closer in, you see...
