Displaying 1 To 7 Of 7 Comments Every Design Has a Flaw Umber, tan, Crimson forks flick about, Isn’t God fair? » Posted By Kevin Geraghty On May 24, 2017 @ 5:23 pm Dogma I followed the wisdom of » Posted By Kevin Geraghty On May 17, 2017 @ 10:54 am Feeling Crowded » Posted By Kevin Geraghty On May 14, 2017 @ 6:46 am A Storm in June » Posted By Kevin Geraghty On May 14, 2017 @ 6:50 am The word: Circuitous This time, tell the truth Even our love for this world » Posted By Kevin Geraghty On May 10, 2017 @ 10:14 am For the word: Energy Don’t tell me yet about » Posted By Kevin Geraghty On May 8, 2017 @ 10:38 am Lovely Colcannon I might be only a mood » Posted By Kevin Geraghty On May 7, 2017 @ 1:27 pmComments Posted By Kevin Geraghty
sage, sand,
chestnut, taupe
saddle brown too
a snake among leaves
in all the right hues
can slide past the hunter
or approach on the hunt
unseen and unheard,
but undone
by a tongue
announce him as
sommelier
of the air
before slipping back
up the nostral groove
with aroma chunks
to ponder.
each flicker leaves
flashing red reprieve
for mice with color vision.
ancients, who drank early water,
never knew life without goats.
They spoke certainty,
recorded in eternal stone
that could never transition
to living form.
I listened all day
to answers, answers for
every question I ever had.
Shiny bright
seedless fruit.
This time, tell the truth
about goodness:
Survival has consequences
that remain unknown,
remain ominous
no matter how closely
we follow
the circuitous trail
of carbon footprints.
Even our love for this world
has sharp edges for
someone else.
You could know already
some of their names
and stories.
They might as well
have been killed
by a homeless tiger,
buried with it
in a common grave.
Don’t tell me yet about
ions or charged particles,
nor the runaway breakdown
of cosmic rays
without first,
some other things.
I want to know
that a thunderous call will
wake me in time to see
lightning teased from the sky
by the energy of lusty earth.
I want to feel a Southwest wind sharpen
the edge of experience
and remind me that I belong here
every time I stop doubting.
Feeling Crowded
about goodness:
Survival has consequences
that remain unknown,
remain ominous
no matter how closely
we follow
the circuitous trail
of carbon footprints.
has sharp edges for
someone else.
You could know already
some of their names
and stories.
They might as well
have been killed
by a homeless tiger,
buried with it
in a common grave.
A Storm in June
ions or charged particles,
nor the runaway breakdown
of cosmic rays
without first,
some other things.
I want to know
that a thunderous call will
wake me in time to see
lightning teased from the sky
by the energy of lusty earth.
I want to feel a Southwest wind sharpen
the edge of experience
and remind me that I belong here
every time I stop doubting.
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floating about,
shaped and propelled by
noisy dogs, or morning sky.
I might change in mid-sentence
if the dog barks more …or less
or clouds move in, …or out.
But colcannon sticks me in place;
cabbage and onion, butter soft
red potatoes, half mashed, squished at least,
where they receive a bacon sprinkle,
and on some lucky day,
the extravagant fried egg.
settled on top like my bride in her gown,
our world burnished in yolk glow.
