June 17, 2008
I wake–it seems I had fallen asleep
On watch at the top of the hill.
I think how as the sun has set,
I’ve lost my own shadow in the Earth’s.
The day has moved it’s face
To look upon the fires far away.
From there, the last of the news that we heard
Came as rustling of the trees in the [...]
Filed under: Squid, music, poetry | Comments (4)
June 5, 2008
(Give us a listen, do)
When I was a little kid
Riding in the car,
Sometimes I’d look to see
No hands upon the wheel.
No parent in the seat,
Nobody to slow it down,
Strapped too tight
To reach up front
And take the wheel–
I hope we stay on the road.
On my first day of class
I opened my front door.
Southbound birds and falling [...]
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June 3, 2008
Gravity is the security tether
That lets you let go of the grass
And gaze open-handed into the abyss
Of sun, moon, stars, and empty space.
Gravity is the shifting illusion
That says, of the wandering zenith,
“There! There is up and not down!”
And masks, with unfathomable
But green-blanketed mass,
The vast co-wandering nadir.
Tell me, daughter of Eve:
How does it feel to [...]
Filed under: Acheté, poetry | Comments (2)
May 21, 2008
Zephyr, a new contributor to The Buttered Slice, shares poetry about kissing her son’s cheek.
Filed under: Zephyr, poetry, writing | Comments (7)
May 15, 2008
(Click to play song)
You don’t mind me coming round
I’m not sure what to do with that
It’s not like with other folks,
Where I’m shooed and waved out
From some well-kept city park
Where they spray down the nests
And the gates turn away
Nice old women
With old bread for my brood
So please don’t get me wrong,
I’m not saying you’re for [...]
Filed under: Squid, music, poetry | Comments (2)
March 2, 2008
Salmon is fish for company;
Snapper when we eat alone.
Spinsters poach perch
Slathered with tartar sauce.
Bachelors would eat steak;
Bachelors eat mostly Hot Pockets.
Better weeks see blueberry frozen waffles for
Breakfast, or dessert.
Some houses fill daily with
Smoke; greasy dust
Settles on top of the fridge, in cupboard corners,
Stays for years.
Some houses ring like campaniles at
Supper time.
Some houses the kitchens are [...]
Filed under: pilcrow, poetry, writing | Comments (4)
February 20, 2008
Red blood
Red bones
Pink quick,
Nails thick and white, polished.
Green suit
Soft chair
Plush beard
Lips with crumbs at the corners.
From the shadows of the jungle
From a window
From a plane
See the oilfields glowing
A bandy-legged union
A chorus of hammers sings
“No-one in the dirt alone!
In the dirt together!
Builder, rigger, tailor, poet
In the dirt together.”
In work forget
The tyranny of
Kings and saints, investors, scholars,
Dream
Perfumed by [...]
Filed under: pilcrow, poetry, writing | Comments (4)
