Daily Archives: June 10, 2013

Another Long Breath, Another Long day


Not my usual style, but it’s cool. I wanted to experiment with repeating ideas, images, or lines in a poem. I think it’s pretty cool, even if the meaning is kind of obscure. Tell me how you interpreted it!


Another Long Breath, Another Long day

her capacity for silence

was admirable. The cobblestone

streets spin like unwound essays about

unexpected pleasures, words spinning.


She draws out another long breath

from her lungs. Another long day,

she feels, she knows,

she knows it without ever thinking it.


And beneath the dark steps to her

shotgun house, mirror to mirror

a box encrusted in diamonds

is broken and the ghost knows that he broke it.


Her capacity for silence is haunting

she has been still for several days, feeling the minutes

crawl like lovejuice up and down her spine,

feeling and knowing without ever thinking  it.


She draws out another lung from her breast.

the shapes of the farmyards blur into

green and pink mesh when she tries to remember

because she looks down at her shoes when she walks.


And beneath the dark steps to her shotgun house,

mirror to mirror,a box encrusted of fairy breaths

breathes in her perfume-from-a-jar, and only

the ghost who broke it knows that he did it.


her capacity for silence

and ghost ships

was hauntingly breathless


no, no, says the poet

don’t leave me Susanna.


Stay until my typewriter resets

and the sun repeats it’s hanging

and the moon repeats her execution

while waking

we will dismiss the countryside

half of the time forgetting that it is there.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry


Stream of Consciousness #9


I don’t think my hands have ever typed so fast! the rhymes literally poured out at a rate I was not sure to keep up at. i was possessed. utterly possessed. And I have just finished reading Joan Baez’s first autobiography, I don’t know if that helps…


Stream of Consciousness #9

who was who was pooh was greatly appreciatledy do

like whispers in summer

you were my love

like bouncing balloons on a string

you were my everything

like balls on bells on a summer day

you were my grass to my hay

my laugh to my chuckle,

my seat to my buckle

my trough to my stream

my laugh to my scream

my tie to myshirt

to my button

to my skirt


you are were is my everything

like free lancing on the street

selling things so you can have food to eat

like strings on ropes and cords and strings

like my heart that constantly sings

whatever you do

you know you is my everything

like money in your pocket

like a chain of golden locket

like springs on balloons

and like the harvest moon

and like the trepidation s

or our silent meditations

and like the wind blowing at your feet and like having the stars to meet

like the wind blowing through the dust

like your mind saying, no , you must, you must

like this itch in my head that says you might prefer me instead

like this shallow of sorrow

that says there is no tomorrow

what’s the point of living,

I find myself saying

when everyone is already dead?

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry