We walked for blocks
and talked through my fears.
The fear was a football
in my throat that went flying
as we held each —
Through the trees it climbed
to become the moon with a kiss.
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Archives: Poetry
THE RAVEN
Foreword by Stan Lerner: Edgar Allan Poe was finally given a funeral befitting one of the greatest writers to have ever lived—a debt of gratitude is owed to the city of Baltimore for this. Edgar Allan Poe and I share January 19th as a birthday and it is the poem below that he wrote just [...]
Love Flight
I woke up
before the sun.
But I was not the first;
my brother saw to that.
Our clothes
in the closet stared at us.
In the distance a man
and women yelled.
Muffled by the door
we couldn’t tell who it was.
But it didn’t matter
because we knew.
I’m grown now
and married over twenty years.
Still I remember
those sleepless nights.
We would wake up
before the sun.
But we [...]
Dawn Words
Dawn is near as I park in front
the blinking meter on Eleven Street.
The city is waking and the birds lead
as I cross the street to the coffee house.
At five thirty AM the lock clicks
and the brew pulls me to the counter.
With cup in hand I lay a notebook
on the round table to collect my words.
Rate [...]
The Acorn to the Tree
A year has passed
since that day we began.
We were not friends,
but lovers we were as we danced
in the wind like two unknowns.
Twenty-five days
have passed since the end.
I have fallen away
and find myself lost in the grass.
The sun burns my mind.
Since that day
I long for you,
but you go on reaching higher.
I feel myself growing weak
for I [...]
Got More Poetry
A reminder to poetry lovers, Pharmaka has “The Third Area” poetry reading featuring four poets with wine and noshes on Thursday, August 27th. Below the info are two poems new to downtownster by famous Persian poets.
Pharmaka Gallery
101 West 5th Street (corner of 5th and main)
Los Angeles
(213) 689-7999
“The Third Area” poetry reading series at Pharmaka takes [...]
Introductions
Head leaning down and my eyes closed
The cool wind blows in through the window.
Music playing and images of last night rush by
shifting speed with the temperature of my forehead.
Once in a while something slips in between
the words, images, and music exploding within my brain.
An old friend comes to me from the radio
taking me back to [...]
Run Away
I see an image —
is it he?
A young face,
the glare of lights,
and the smell of bottle brush
move with the wind
along the highway.
He is but a drop
in the Milky Way
buried in the cup of his hands
to chase away their nudity.
What has he solved
as he blows that prayer?
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