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Feral Poetry: August 2011

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. Tuesday, 23 August 2011. Ireland Sings To Her Emigrants:. My fields are empty with sorrow. And my wealth dissipates with depression. No laughing children fill my woods. They are all gone out into the world. But I am a woman in love! And her lovers have turned away. Return from the far off lands. To me, your ain true love. Hag no more, I am young,. My breasts as firm as mountain hills. My valley as wet as the Boyne. My hair is soft and long and sweet. Although I...

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Orcas Island in November | OUT TO SEE

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Travel tales from here, there and everywhere. Laquo; Finding clarity on Pescadero Beach. Orcas Island in November. Life is quiet on a San Juan island in the fall. I know this because my sister Laura and I just spent two days on Orcas. The ferry ride over. Here are some highlights of our trip:. After a cold and rainy ferry ride to the island on Tuesday, we turned up the heat so high in our room at the Outlook Inn. That we passed out from heat exhaustion. Laura did not wake up for 12 hours. The Island Mark...

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Feral Poetry: February 2013

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. Wednesday, 27 February 2013. This Body: Fleshy Cactus. This body, fleshy cactus, black-spined passion. Touch not the flame or else be consumed,. Insatiable, sucking the marrow and desert dry,. Fervent lust melting will, piercing to pith. Until white sap oozes from every pore. Taken - and taking - cutting down the spines,. No defenses here. In a pulse,. Revealing the soft watery heart, ready to surrender its bounty. To the bravest man alive. My body is blooming.

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Feral Poetry: What is Feral Poetry?

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. What is Feral Poetry? My great-grandmother's house is gone now. Nothing left but farmland. Returning to old habits,. And a few outbuildings as vague reminders. The fallow fields emerge,. A mandala of sweet pea and poppy,. With the delight of their own pollen. And everywhere there are saplings,. A silent people moving slowly. In search of heirlooms,. I enter an outbuilding subsumed in kudzu. And find a box-. Soaked through with rain. Hands clutching soil,. Well,...

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» Blog Archive » Snow Snow Snow

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. Feral Poets and Thinkers. A Bit About Me. My mind is full of snow. Air turns soft with feathered light–. Ten thousand stars falling to earth,. A nest of dreams in winter down,. And a heart hushed with wonder. This entry was posted on Saturday, December 4th, 2010 at 2:13 pm and is filed under Living Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Feed You can leave a response. From your own site. November 14th, 2015 at 4:22 pm. I’d ...

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Feral Poetry: The Thunder Gods

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. Thursday, 13 June 2013. Written during the Taurus Moon. Caught by the gods,. I am soaked,. Soaked through my skin. By the tingle of power. Rippling aflame down my neural spine. And up again, wildfire in my mind. This thunder drums and drums. Heartbeat thrown off kilter. A trance, pronouncement of doom, judgment come. I crouch under the trees,. Their bodies wracked by wind,. The sinew of their bark stretching, creaking, cracking. Entreats in the soil and slime,.

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Feral Poetry: May 2011

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. Thursday, 19 May 2011. Eno River Walking: Visual Verse. Please click on the image above to enjoy a 10 minute "visual verse video" I've put together which includes my own photography of the Eno River and local area, as well as myself reading my "Eno River Walking" poem. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts! Friday, 13 May 2011. In the thirteenth year they came,. Fat caramel bodies tymbolling at noon,. One month to molt, mate, birth and die. This brood of lovers.

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» 2009 » August

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. Feral Poets and Thinkers. A Bit About Me. Archive for August, 2009. 08 31st, 2009. Sat in the dark,. Cross legged with my pain,. This is the place of practice. I don’t expect it to make me feel better,. Or release me from the anguish inside. I just want to sit,. For a moment, to. Even in the intensity of mind. The solitude of a broken heart,. Forgetting what I know and don’t know,. What I thought happened, what did and didn’t. Just …. living. 08 30th, 2009.

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Feral Poetry: This Body, Lush Apple Blossom

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What is Feral Poetry? Psychology of a Poem. Saturday, 23 February 2013. This Body, Lush Apple Blossom. This body, lush apple blossom pouring her sweetness out into the spring. Longing every moment to envelop bees, take their honeyed nectar into my pink folds. Where is my fulfillment? The delight of being used, filled, my petals crushed so that they seep out warm summer fragrance. Will I ever become an apple, fattened, round, juicy and ready to drop life? It's as inevitable as the seasons. But not for you,.