The blood that seeps into Cracks and crevices of rock and stone. Tile, carpet, wood. Painting painting Painting the night with a sweetest, irony Scent. Touch the edge, smear the finger tips. Rouge the red, on the bathroom floor. Parts of you, parts of us all, in the blood On the floor. ————————————— If you’re…
Category: Poetry
Relationship with Death [a poem]
I’ve been thinking about this subject for a long time now. May develop it into a short story or maybe even longer prose. Not sure. “What is your relationship with Death?” His body was mangled, on the pavement. The engine running high, and smoke began to rise. The blood, it seeps into cracks and…
Freehand Poem #3
These are words that have been stuck in my head for the last few days now. Boiling, the blood beneath the surface. And rage that licks the skin, enticing violence. The bone breaks, the blood spills and the world becomes a blur; in your blackest hour. If you are reading this, Thank You for…
Response: Phenomenology and the Body in Poetry
This is a response to tmbenjamin10 ‘s suggested topic from my post National Poetry Month , “…I’ve been recently wondering and reading around the subject of phenomenology and its effect on how we treat the body in poetry. Please feel free to take a stab at the subject…” . This is a big subject and a lot to chew…
Freehand Poem #2: Poetry
Context: The weather recently in Salt Lake City has been rainy. April is usually a stormy month but is highlighted with a few sparse days with sunshine. Recently a new law was passed that will be in effect starting next year. Today is a rainy day. Thunder echoing back against the sky, the grey…