tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20080234146918369722024-02-20T22:58:44.566-05:00Brief PoemsA collection of short poemsBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.comBlogger446125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-55291756414194757072016-07-01T12:09:00.001-04:002016-07-01T12:09:41.871-04:00Everyone is a sleepAcross the dark caverns<br />
of our silent home,<br />
I wake<br />
to the rhythms<br />
and repetitions<br />
of her worry.<br />
<br />
Through layers<br />
of shell and yolk,<br />
I emerge a fledgling<br />
imprinted with her song.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-74694787470549202422016-06-24T08:59:00.003-04:002016-06-24T08:59:53.721-04:00FleshShe carves herself<br />
into a rocking chair,<br />
<div>
<div>
<div>
and finds her place<br />
on the porch.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In a steady sway<br />
of grainy regret,</div>
<div>
the hurt of having<br />
flesh remains.</div>
</div>
</div>
Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-83212934403432908482016-06-23T19:23:00.000-04:002016-06-23T19:23:46.309-04:00Amphibian PolygamyWe have joined a nudist colony of toads--<br />
a slippery, slimy, intoxicating plunge.<br />
<br />
By moonlit pools of treacherous muck,<br />
we catch last glimpses of our love.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-72931294426756266142016-06-23T11:05:00.002-04:002016-06-24T09:01:47.038-04:00Zucchini blossoms<br />
abort themselves<br />
over well-fertilized soil.<br />
<br />
Along a gravel path,<br />
so littered with weeds,<br />
a stranger asks<br />
<br />
if we have children<br />
of<br />
our<br />
own.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-81559659249201937352010-04-15T12:15:00.005-04:002010-04-15T12:23:21.738-04:00ThursdayI roll through the day like a trapezoid.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-9640159263220732132010-04-14T13:11:00.005-04:002010-08-31T06:29:25.078-04:00Wednesday<div>I army crawl </div><div>through halls,</div><div>passing below<br /></div><div>the suppressive<br />nature </div><div>of the workday.</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-48793127664369561902010-04-13T17:34:00.004-04:002010-06-28T07:20:59.562-04:006:30A poem wakes up and looks for someone to write him,<div>but no one is there, so he goes back to sleep.</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-82440568318180439212010-04-09T06:51:00.006-04:002010-04-10T08:10:10.581-04:00What Writing Used to BeIt used to be<br />I'd grab a pencil,<br />and bring the tip<br />against my forehead.<br /><br />I'd pause<br />for just a moment,<br />and slam my head<br />against the table.<br /><br />With twist and turns,<br />the boring would begin.<br />And I'd watch<br />liquid brain drip out.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-53148877614239611062010-04-08T07:06:00.006-04:002010-04-13T17:44:59.250-04:00ProstrationIsabelle is playing possum<br />in the fields again,<br />pretending to be dead<br />as the day goes by.<br /><br />As grass grows<br />and bug swarm<br />we kick dirt at her<br />and laugh.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-74202968194658269912010-04-06T05:49:00.004-04:002010-04-06T13:03:12.009-04:00Old TownIt must be spring--<br />Through open windows,<br />the roar of trucks rolling by.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-57547424284291254852010-04-05T08:01:00.005-04:002010-08-31T06:29:47.883-04:00BookmarkI am the corner<br />of a page<br />folded over.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-34787579040054180652010-04-04T19:35:00.002-04:002010-04-10T08:13:51.371-04:00I drip down the leg<br />of my favorite chair<br />and drown in a pool<br />of boredom.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-2167524546909031352010-04-02T07:41:00.012-04:002010-04-10T09:13:27.136-04:00The Breadmaker<div>Bread crumbs shed</div><div>on the kitchen floor.</div><div>Through dusty waves </div><div>of whole wheat pollen,</div><div>we watch the bread tree grow.</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-12288022328496074252010-04-01T21:17:00.000-04:002010-04-02T08:18:33.908-04:00She is carrots and beets,<div><div>and parsnips bent </div><div>over wooden spoons,</div><div>swells of sauvignon</div><div>drowning</div><div>dripping</div><div>dried out</div><div>on the floor.</div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-81534321697592244912009-07-14T16:18:00.005-04:002009-08-13T10:38:33.610-04:00GoodbyeBanana wheel rolls <div>off counter's edge</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-68255778143898954372009-07-01T13:44:00.002-04:002010-04-06T05:57:07.695-04:00She calmly packs<div>her things<div>into the blender.<br /></div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-7003683159351747452009-07-01T09:18:00.000-04:002009-07-01T09:20:34.688-04:00Mountain Laurel<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAk_TAjI8TV8p6z05bPs52HPhBX1fL9d-3UnodlTOtQu1Rpu6cs8pDGnNMcKfsbiG_vMjrT-4agJZHhh03I9QVPHA_HQ98Ouz82LGpmh_FCgUYQ4z8ZzuwVWI4bEkgj11aWbqTGl3sczC/s1600-h/IMG_0446.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAk_TAjI8TV8p6z05bPs52HPhBX1fL9d-3UnodlTOtQu1Rpu6cs8pDGnNMcKfsbiG_vMjrT-4agJZHhh03I9QVPHA_HQ98Ouz82LGpmh_FCgUYQ4z8ZzuwVWI4bEkgj11aWbqTGl3sczC/s400/IMG_0446.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353480796173638706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-51952741542680184502009-07-01T09:07:00.022-04:002010-04-06T05:57:25.828-04:00TeeteringBeneath her knife,<div>the seesaw</div><div>of apple slice.</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-5591659434878325032009-05-04T07:58:00.005-04:002009-05-04T11:17:48.910-04:00CompanyAlong battered cascades,<br />mossy rocks<br />and pink tube socks.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-44527181872275932962009-05-04T07:46:00.005-04:002009-05-04T11:16:50.551-04:00The sycamore's pale<br />yellow and green<br />sway above like buggers<br />in a breezeBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-30979837997930905742009-05-04T07:43:00.003-04:002009-07-01T09:24:03.770-04:00Bee in Wild Geranium<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5zELHuYpQQEWuT3xj8oxUdAWpAkAnPWGgSiZ0F9xwY1CM8LVdkF0Qxe9va2Zh9zajxkUU0qv4aQ-mWszz7KgaI0m2dm02aLNiZ1bs2crCbpJ4Yr_t7cUSfz6cUyhskqJtHsKaq2HdUVY/s1600-h/DSC02622_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5zELHuYpQQEWuT3xj8oxUdAWpAkAnPWGgSiZ0F9xwY1CM8LVdkF0Qxe9va2Zh9zajxkUU0qv4aQ-mWszz7KgaI0m2dm02aLNiZ1bs2crCbpJ4Yr_t7cUSfz6cUyhskqJtHsKaq2HdUVY/s400/DSC02622_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331933287127005810" border="0" /></a><br /><br />May 3rdBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-5487954022737843392009-02-18T11:20:00.006-05:002009-02-21T20:21:10.560-05:00RememberingSour waves of violence<br />on the palimpsest of mindBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-79063484590737343362009-01-30T18:47:00.006-05:002010-04-02T08:20:18.081-04:00Yarn OverShe knits<br />green scarves<br />to undo<br />what's unraveled.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-59102286795156922292009-01-23T09:45:00.006-05:002010-04-06T05:56:48.037-04:00She parachutes over acres of love,<br />unprepared.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2008023414691836972.post-78218358777225537202009-01-20T12:29:00.002-05:002009-02-21T19:56:34.536-05:00PrayerUnsour<br />the fruits<br />that fall<br />upon<br />our lives.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06289013669698459078noreply@blogger.com2