Eavesdropping

photo by Rob Hanson

Above this dusty relic phone
Laughter spring sentience
A map of soles
Connects body
Instep…

Movement calling arches;
Come in arches—
Convivial apogees for filigree
Mechanisms fuse wire, ligaments
It’s cliché to say when you least expect it
Like news, dropping bombs without warning
To lose yourself through charged sentiment
Returning to amend again
Biochemical remnants
Stains memory into the glass of years
That should forever
Never
Stand
Your silence…

Five-alarm warnings, imploring, before life ends
Regrets that, meant, honor, discontent, mendicant
More when voices
Distill vibrations…
Rendering whispers…
Most soothing…
Feathered sighs…
Intimate

Do I spy falsies?
Maybe that’s clear
Levity during tears for mortality
Intense, sears carving reality
As tragedy snuffs out waning night
Death pronouncements through the tunneled ear
Cease climbing toward the apex right
When singing bird chirps fill the morning air

Yes, I’m missing sweet words
The ones that we hold dear
Recalling felt a soft smooth face
Even hang ups, wrong numbers
Just wishing love to hear

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Want to listen to Eavesdropping?
The above poem was written for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. Rob Hanson took the fantastic HDR photo. Today, it is Part 2 of Mr. Hanson’s interview with Chris G. at One Stop Poetry. Awesome photographer. Go check out the interview.

When Machines Mend

photo by Rob Hanson

Forgetting, over hours
Details under interrogating fluoresence
When machines mend
This antique Elizabethport Singer
Will bind sturdy seams again
Holes in ripped jeans
An old weblos patch
Then I’ll pay the pub a visit
Talking over 2 buck drafts
Pouring to home; a smile basks
Planning new tapestries
The artist tips his frosty glass

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When Machines Mend reading…
The above poem was written for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. Rob Hanson took the fantastic HDR photo.  Today he is interviewed over at One Stop Poetry.

Claustrophobic Rut

Is it crazy to tell off the sky?
Shake your fist at the clouds moving by
Pin your yourself down for 1-2-3
Past vice built walls
Over mountain misting seas

There is no elevator to heaven
Maybe a sandwich break
Thought escalation
Thinking through bodily sensation
Left eye twitching
When most alone
By myself
Returning home

Lightening at sunset
A cigarette in spring rain
Dog tired and alive
Already I have changed

Fear falling free
The worst of it is me
Self-made peace
Self-respect beyond grief
Seeking a spacious garden
Destination reached
Not the channel alley
Asphalt valley
Where cover’s steam
Below drowning aqueducts
Sewer rats, healing cuts
Fresh air I breath
And dream
To leave
This claustrophobic rut
Hitting bricks
Working out my luck

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Care to hear me read Claustrophobic Rut?
The above poem was written for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. Scott Wyden took the amazing photo. Outstanding lines and composition. He is the interviewee today over at One Stop Poetry.