Mar 22, 2021

a biscuit and black coffee was all

These fields are dew-wet and heavy with crows and gloom, and it is still a long walk to get to the house of the poet. Just past dawn and hungry, a biscuit and black coffee was all, two hours ago in the darkness, the night before spent in prayer and shivers, under the stare of the grandfather clock. One cold tick at a time. What is this weight of grief? What is this ghastly tonic that fails to heal? There is no promise waiting at the house of the poet. Is there even anyone there to answer the door? And now the shoes and the pant-legs are dew-wet. The heaviness of crows is a weight upon the soul, and the first light is not burning away the fog. From the far end of the pasture, hidden in mist, comes the sound of hoof-beats. 


That which is easy can overcome that which is difficult. Likewise, simplicity can overcome complexity. With faith and love, life goes on.


Happiness means feeling you are on the right path every moment. You don't need to arrive at the end of the path in order to be happy.

-Thich Nhat Hanh

Treat every moment as your last. It is not preparation for something else. 

-Shunryu Suzuki

You measure a democracy by the freedom it gives its dissidents, not the freedom it gives its assimilated conformists. 

-Abbie Hoffman

Thelonious Monk/Bemsha Swing


Ren Powell

Bait the Lines

Hardcore Zen

haiku eye

The Urban Mermaid

HOOT, a monthly literary magazine on a postcard

The Slowdown

clay and branches


Summer's End

Medusa's Kitchen

The Middlewesterner

The Morning Porch/Patio

VIA NEGATIVA, purveyors of fine poetry since 2003


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