windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

sore

despite this winning
streak, tears on the baseball field.
dusty afternoon.

spectators

early spring, a good day
for sports–fruit flies gathered ’round
a skillful spider.

disillusionment

excited by the sound of crickets, i rush outside
to recognize a car alarm, two blocks down.
in the silence that follows, the memory of cricket-sound reveals itself
as a yet more distant car alarm.

please share

if you’re awake now,
look west, and let your mouth make
the shape of the moon

monkey’s fist

resentment nurtured to the realm of art,
though dazzling, doesn’t fail to choke the heart