56 Flavours:Chapter 7

Untrained I The last time she had shopped there she had run into a woman she thought she knew. Only she didn’t. When she politely moved away after realizing her mistake, the woman followed her, asking her so what do you do? She drew a blank. There was a job she had, a husband she lived with, a cat she fed, a mother she should call. I’m in transition, she finally said, picking out a $9 package of teriyaki salmon. She was a terrible shopper. She never came for what she got or got what she came for. Ingredients slipped her mind. Instant gratification took over like swarms of bees. What do YOU do, she asked in return. It was the obvious thing to do. I train trainers. Train trainers. I train people how to train people. Well she supposed someone had to. Train people....

Monday Poetry Train – Dropped Pages – August in America

Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books and chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here. This poem was dropped from Everyday Angels and Other Near Death Experiences. I will mail a copy of the book to the first person who can tell me what famous affair had I just learned about (had just been confessed to the public) when I wrote this poem. August in America were you lonely was the music crisp was her skin soft and welcoming curves of an angel             falling like a friend did you close your eyes slow down a moment no where to go             no sin no voices          no death did you hold her in that end of time forgetting          forgotten           and full is there space for tantra in the new millennium is dancing      far...

Poetry Train – Dropped Pages – On the Day of Silhouettes

Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books and chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here. left out of Her Red Book On the Day of Silhouettes Out the train window she sees cut-outs mountains gulls Man in rowboat fishing water like something one can touch     but not hold defiantly on the still lake she hears the word “moon”     from a child’s lips and there it is she practices looking w/out naming now that love has surprised her once again she goes to church and sings grateful for the roundness of the choir she picks this future a calm fortress against the long hours of drive ambition the release tastes like a careless trip honey sunsets always remind her of sunsets they replace each other that way like the speed of...