Author: admin

A studied loveliness in available light poses carelessly the question why everyone loves her for the wrong reasons.

I did not bother that bee I swear but I was in its clover Bruce Taylor’s poetry has appeared in such places as Able Muse, The American Poetry Journal, The Chicago Review, The Cortland Review, The Nation, The New York Quarterly,...

Somewhere down Lonely Street past doors cursed by spray cans X’ed shut with two by fours he takes a turn for the worse at Heartbreak Hotel and heads out of town. Rats roam the weeds of Dinosaur Land and kernels of Burma...

“The ritual, known in some parts of China as a ghost wedding, is intended to provide both dead partners with someone to accompany them in the afterlife.” Canals gray as ash Otto Frank returns home after his long night....

Mom ran off with his heart and Dad’s best friend he can’t remember the color of Rose Forever’s eyes and wants to turn his back bruised black and blue with unearned anger on the youth that mocks him. Screaming eagles have come...

In morning’s gray hours a call jangles you to duty to be the pilot they no longer can be. They lost their way fell in with the wrong crowd followed another gone astray through no fault of their own good nature or intentions were...

There was a cascade of clouds That formed over a buoyant bayou On the afternoon of my mother’s death. Her passing was not untimely, Nor unexpected. At her funeral Slash Celebration There were more thoughtful embraces And...

My stomach is thicker, My hair is thinner. My line is slender Between saint and sinner. My ink is lighter Yet the words are darker. The dog in my soul Is a raucous barker. The ears don’t listen, But the themes are louder. The...

The rare passion and raw power, The fashion that makes you flower, The unyielding love that grips like a vice. A heart of paramount proportions, A body of a zillion contortions. A life with you would surely be nice. Yet I am a...

open with sleepy hope, teeter midway in the sunshine smoke, close like breaking glass on an asphalt slope

I lived in a house with too many rooms. I knew that when I lived there. Although I moved long ago, I still visit. Each time, I’m surprised by the changes. Why were they necessary? Who made them? Last week, I discovered new...

I feel a need of cleansing. Briskness against my palate to scrub this year away. I imagine a scoured veneer where hope will again find adhesion. Like a wooden planked deck, stained by time and life, made fresh with a stiff brush...