the thrill is in
me imagining your gaze
as a fleck of sunlight
graces the table of my face
angles shadows like puppets
caught dancing
without strings
free to accept and love deeply.
Author Archives: presssendpoetry
Author and editor for Press Send Poetry. Marketing for Barcoding, Inc. #Baltimore #Poet
untitled (paranoia of a painting)
the Indian laughs
he knows
more than he should
he plans to use it against me
bury the hachet.
watching (haiku)
i’m watching a man
watching a squirrel but who
is watching me now?
Metronome of a Sunday Morning (Everydaypoets.com)
Published on EveryDayPoets.com today – so before the Super Bowl starts, read some poetry 🙂
Metronome of a Sunday Morning
http://www.everydaypoets.com/metronome-of-a-sunday-morning-by-jody-costa/
In Mind by Brenda Bufalino
i’m featuring poet Brenda Bufalino tonight. a friend gave me her book, and i wanted to share. [Brenda, Codhill Press, i hope you don’t mind!]
From Circular Migrations, Codhill Press 2010
In Mind
Digging deep in mind
has no regrets for unpredicted
unforeseen results
yet anticipation
is the germination
to do
to make
to facilitate
to orchestrate
and then
to let the music play
the lack of
the lack of ______
the quiet ache of missing
the empty white space
these are just as important
as the have, the hold
the in the flesh.
author’s note… it seems fitting that i find this poem to be completely unfinished.
manic
My cat and
I
live now in a tent sometimes
my car
and when she talks to me
she says – do it!
You do it! Dream it!
Be it!
Don’t confine yourself to him –
Don’t live in that little square –
Spend it!
Be it!!
Feel it cat – that high high high!!!
We can go anywhere you and me…
I can spend days
sometimes days
before IÂ
I need to wash my hair.
Sometimes like looking
through a telescope backwards
IÂ
remember my life before…
Oh cat, no mind! let’s pick up and go!!
We can live in Costa Rica
where the black sand welcomes
misfits and we
can plunge in with all our clothes on!!!
grieving period (how long is enough)
Pale widow
Blue veins freeze her hands
Rests them vacant
Consoling window sill
Togged out, waits
one lonely diamond
That jewel steady
While fain deciduous
Shed winter coats
For vibrant summer airs
snow like petals blown
snow like petals blown
by that one giant whoo-sh –
scattered the dandelion
when we lived in fields,
made wishes instead
of analyzing frozen precip
in harsh city streetlights.
one worker laid off in America
before i’m asked to leave
now obsolete
i tilt my head back and see –
above in steel it
is ws g90 cs/b
it’s granular black and upside down,
it means nothing to me, this me
of a head thrown back
headache pinching one side
body thrown aside
florescent lighting ripples metal
and i start to see patterns
numbers letters – squares.
i notice the ws repeat
i see the secret messages and the meaning
is pinching my brain
stiffening my neck
but i don’t look away cause
my country relies on my ability
to dicepher the code –
yes
WS… SOFTILE CS TYPE B
MADE IN USA
O3G 132
yes! the walls fall to the side
i’m yelling to everyone
i feel their arms around me, binding tight.
“made in the USA, made in the USA, made in the USA, made in the USA, made in the USA,
Press Send Poetry 