You can only be on fleek In your brightly bleached blonde ‘do’ Pearly teeth shining too And the five-star hotel You stay in Has a floating bar Where you slink up to Pretty young dudes And work your love stuff Among the ritzy crowd Your coos falling silent Echoing in the dim space Where shrouded … Continue reading
Latest Entries
A Winter Path
Always something amiss blue frost sweeping the edge of a hard north wind An open wound Festers in the flutter of consciousness a patient soul smothered in dark ashes Slumbering in discontent sleep On a path spanned by the assault of seasons time dated by carbon On a trail of jagged footprints a tortured traveler … Continue reading
Boxed Man
One day they took a man And put him in a box Asked him to fold the vertices into truths ‘Can you map a path to atonement?’ His vision was narrow Cloistered in a box A space with no windows Four walls Inside was nothing But the music Of dead trees Soft whispers of silence … Continue reading
Night Drive
The desert at night is vibrant with seething, shifting hotbeds of sand The highway is a green-eyed panther stalking the night A mirage ahead Cradles the schoolyard by Main Street A hair bow crushed into the earth The thirsty earth that Swallows weary souls The city far from the desert Where the drive … Continue reading
Where the Desperate go
The back of a poor person’s house is peeling like a black economy like someone locked the dark ghost inside mold stalks along the perimeter devouring walls the empty cupboards scream the front porch dips to the center fault of a crumbling foundation. The landlord knocks loud pounds the frame. Come sweep these threadbare floors … Continue reading
The Sandman cometh…
Originally posted on Straight from the Publisher:
Another award-winning book by LT Garvin: Dancing with the Sandman. In a small, dusty rural area, there are histories and stories that should be told; times worth remembering; and there is homage, a tribute that should be paid. Take the sand, all of it mold it into castles…
Rousseau and I
My infatuation with Jean Jacques Rousseau goes way back I loved him long before I conjured him drinking in the glory of his soft curls, beautiful nose and shapely mouth. Tonight at Piatto, he was irritated “I rather thought we would go to the opera…” he sniffed Opera Smopera when we can share this glorious … Continue reading
