Outerbelt

Speedway soars

without pit or champion.

Glow of dashboard.

Echo of centrifugal force.

Cars never cross the finish line

bleached with tire marks.

White-knuckled steering wheels.

Endless narrow-eyed loop.

At night there is no grandstand. 

I am the only fan.  Awake.

Dizzy with silent exhaust.

Inhaled secrets.

Drivers envy the cool

underside of my pillow.

I hide under the covers.
Dream headlong.

tk/November 2014


Charming read by R.A.D. Stainforth and Amy the cat...

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Elegy

This autumn finds you

removed from anyone who knew.

Only the maple is at your mercy;

its leaves crunch around the stone

with enough respect.  

I no longer panic about the cracks.

The uncomfortable damp.

Something from the basement

is buried with secrets.

The dreams have stopped.

Your eyes stay in their sockets;

two dark-stained walnuts,

bitter and tenacious.

All the dead are pious.

It suits you.

tk/October 2014



Perfectly delivered by R.A.D. Stainforth...

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Secret Scioto

Autumn on the River, 1889, John Singer Sargent

The Scioto reclines,

exposes the withy brush

between sycamore-scattered bends.

A bough dips to touch herself,

bleached before an overcast mirror.

Muddy stillness resonates;

waters bubble and breathe

over unturned limestone.

Every wind echoes a low moan,

opens the buttons of her gown.

Those who are gone now

wade in the shallows,

scribble small notes

in the gravelly sediment

of her parched summers.

She does not share secrets,

rises and falls in mysteries

of moss and willowherb.

Sighs fog native banks. She laughs―

pays the voyeurs on the bridge no mind. 

tk/ November 2013


Exceptionally beautiful read by R.A.D. Stainforth: 

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