Tag Archives: understanding

the seamstresses


Isaac Israels (1865-1934) ~ Seamstresses at Atelier Paquin, Paris

~ for all the amazing women in my life, you know who you are

core spun thread
through filigree fingers

slip-stitched seams
raw edges
tucked neat

silver grey pellicule
salved and selvedged
far from the fray

gaussian smoothed
beneath seamstresses’ gaze

there will be no unraveling



Filed under Free Verse, Poetry, Uncategorized



Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting ~ Robert Frost

Nursing vanilla-caffeine infusion,
soft frost melting against the aga,
I watch them

sibling seed heads,
happily bent in solicitude
for their task.

In paper intricacies
patient adolescent soothes
her fervent perfectionism –

it doesn’t matter if you make mistakes sweetheart,
++++++++++++++++++++that’s what makes each one unique

As dusk gnaws at the
frayed edges of the day
I dance a solitary waltz

lacy snowflakes
strung from cobwebbed beams,

in the fractals
of their beautiful mistakes.

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry, Uncategorized

Corpus Opus







No-one in our real lives gives a shit that we write,
that our raison d’être is to drag definitions
from the depths of our guts
and needle scratch them into our skin.

I wonder if,
when the words that ink us,
that silkscreenprint us,
have dried and cracked
and not an inch of skin remains,

they will gather around our naked corpses
and read the story of our lives.


Filed under Free Verse


These clothes are not my own;
sewn to bone, button-holed to skin,
neatly pressed, hemmed in,
diaphanous, worn thin.

A promise-woven pelt,
yet you have felt what I tried to hide;
the frayed, grey remnants
that I have stitched inside.


Filed under Poetry


it’s simple
when all we share

is a space


room to  b r e a t h e

room to be
you me we

a stolen piece of free

no mess no clutter
no sandinspeedshutter

this flawless visibility

perfect opacity

snapshot simplicity

that only we see


Filed under Free Verse, Poetry