Category: Poetry
Smuggs Chronicle ’14, Day 15: August 8, 2014
The trail is a mix of gravel and dirt. Pine seedlings, high grass and ferns flank it on both sides. Morse mountain starts more evenly than Madonna. Until we come to the first rise....
Fading Luminescence
Mellow drums and a sullen guitar. These are the sounds of his footsteps. Sun-speckled skin like an old cigar He’s lived one life and is living another Faded are those that he once knew...
Smooth Sailing
Poem The water is choppy, and clouds cover the sky. This vessel between me and the ocean. A few miles back, the sun had shone, and I’d glided along, languid and calm. But...
Smuggs ’14 Chronicle, Day 14, August 7, 2014
Gray clouds clinging under the deck rail a string of raindrops what better morning for intimacy? Awake at two in the morning. Restless in bed until after five. Awake again, this time by Frank,...
A Lament for Margot
There was not one second, not one tiny sliver of a moment when I didn’t think you were beautiful. You, among the trims of taffeta, the trails of incandescent pearls. You, standing in the...
Thanksgiving Bird
Poem A small bird sat on a bony twig All alone, heavy-hearted. The winter wind ruffled his feathers His berry-black eye cried a homesick tear. Missing his nest-bound days, Missing the berries and...
Other Tuesdays
Other Tuesdays were not as bleak The trees held more leaves Nature’s warmth still held us close As the fall winds called for change Other Tuesdays were better off spent There were cobblestone streets...
Smuggs ’14 Chronicle, Day 13, August 6, 2014
Madonna rises ahead. The ski lift passes out of sight. Mira and I walked hear all the way from Mountain Laurel 15 via the Meadowlark. Now I wonder what we were thinking. gravel on...
Silent Pain
I watched you lay there in silent pain I watched you lay look at me in silent pain Your eyes speaking without volume You tried hard to speak to me There wasn’t much I...
The Prophet
Poem If I wandered the streets With feet unshod like Socrates and demanded You answer the question: “What is Justice?” Would You think I was a lunatic? Or just another prophet. more...
Smuggs ’14 Chronicle, Day 12: August 5, 2014
Our self-guided Wike begins with soggy sneakers. Our path emerges from wet, high grasses near the driveway to Mountain Laurels. We find a path to Notchville Park and take the loop down to the...
