I discovered that a rather delicious meal I ate contained milk. It was unpleasant because I am lactose intolerant. When I experience the symptoms thereof, for some reason my mind has created this little poem (it might be a haiku): My bowels, like water They move me To tears. It’s usually not quite that bad,… Continue reading My Bowels, Like Water
Pulling a couple of pieces from the archives: A silly little poem about loss and longing from 1994, and an even older essay (from 1992) about the Colombian drug cartel.
This is work in progress poem I am occasionally poking at, but I like the concept enough to share it before it is finished. The title has yet to be decided and I don’t really like the working title I had for it, so you get a poem with only a partial title.
In any event the beginning source of inspiration is obvious, but it draws from a number of (mostly subconscious) influences.
I hope you, the reader, find something enjoyable about the piece, rough as it is.
I’ve begun the gradual pull of things of items from archives into the new site. For the moment I have picked two poems from 1994 – 1995 which is the period when I was first diagnosed with a mental illness. These poems are not obviously poems related to my mental illness (there are others, which I probably won’t share, which are), but the fact I was writing poetry at all had more to do with a need to express myself due to being in crisis than due to fancying myself as a poet or an author of fiction.
Let us all play pretend.Let us show the world I will not end.Let us all play pretend. Shall we don the mask,so none will ask,”Is everything fine?” When all is said and done,to whom will we showthe thing others do not know,That our mask is not for fun. We wear the maskand all believethey knowthe weave of… Continue reading The “Everything’s Fine” Mask
There’s smoke in the air and musicpoundingin my earsThere’s cracks in the floorand glass under my feetThere’s hope for me and for youOnly we must meet Tell me how it ought to beTell me what you want to seeTell me. Dance with me and watch me fallin loveDance with me and we will beDance with… Continue reading About the Trash
Tis twice nowthat friendship and lovehave died twin deathswhat was wasn’t and what wasn’t wasto speak more plainly;in retrospecttwice, best friends, weren’t. Perran November ’94
I walk in the last mournful raysof November sunlighttheir pale lightfailing, so it seemslike a melancholy dream I feel the cold chillof air preparing for the snows to come;my heart despairs of finding warmth, hope, comfort. I have walked a hundred roads,thought a hundred thoughtsand still it comes to thisfading November twilight,of time gone, goingof… Continue reading November
A silly little poem of loss and longing from the archives.
I have a space of four wallsbetween me and the worldIt is a mess but it is mine A private kingdomA world all my ownA place to hide, to think, to play It may never see another soul, it matters not, for it is mine.