I wrote this little pair of interrelated verse about four or five weeks ago. I don’t know why I’ve been holding on to them. These are about sadness—Tristitia—and joy—Gaudium. ♥ FIDES I. Tristitia There’s a flicker, and it comes with the expectation that distraction has come to rescue her from the mouthy weight of inexorable…
Eurydice
I wrote this one in August ’10. Click on the image for fullsizeyness. My handwriting’s admittedly little tough in this one, so the full text is after the image. ♥ Eurydice I belong to you where the great enigmas collide. So I don’t care to practice restraint at this instant. I want to embrace it….
The Margay
This poem was longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize last spring, but alas, it missed the shortlist. I wrote it in July ’10, when I was in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica. It’s a terza rima box: thirteen lines, thirteen syllables per line. Click on the visual to view it in its full-sized glory in your…
When You Were Mine
During the summer of 2010, I wrote three poems that I subsequently submitted to a number of contests and literary journals to no avail. However, as developing a traditional publication record isn’t a priority at the moment, I’ve decided to post them. The first one’s below, and the others already have been scheduled to post…
Asyndeton
Last time I posted a poem, I made an audio recording of it. This time, however, I felt compelled to write it out by hand—my nicest print, for my nicest cursive’s too large—and scan it in. It’s a twenty-line poem with twelve syllables per line and two broken lines where it felt like there ought…
Temporary
As I was having the worst time getting to work, being a little soultired and heartbroken, I wrote an anaphora in free verse based upon the perplexities that were kicking around my head. I also made an audio recording of it. ♥ Temporary “Temporary” She carefully considered all the complaints at hand, and she paid…
A Chronoclysm
A Chronoclysm. He’s not sure if it’s the hangover talking at first. He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes to reassure himself of his sobriety. He lets slip a vocalized groan that echoes within the vacant space of the classroom, and its sound slices through the silence, providing an antidote to his uncertainty. He…
(Aventurine is exalted.)
I’m feeling generous, like I want to share a Work-in-Progress with all those who swim through the soup of the internet and stop on my page. For some reason, I can’t seem to finalize this poem, so what better way to stamp out these tentative feelings than to boldly post it—Forgive the split infinitive. Courage…
Spotify lets me share Keys with you.
I’ve made mention before that within The Ministers of Grace universe—that is, within everything that I’ve written that pertains to angels and demons—that there are these things called Angelic Keys, and that they sound pretty musical. Well, thanks to Spotify, I’m able to share with you what those Keys might sound like. Granted, these are…