BLUEPEPPER

Kissed by God at Ski Roundtop It came gradually as it might be expected to do. The trees, Peruvian green r...

To/Fro The world will end  with yellow wolf's death rattle. The furniture of the universe  is a bare l...

Velvet Clown My desires will not be contained by the  fig leaf of public modesty and my  wants wil...

Twin Girls, 1948 Beth was always different marching as she did to an armless drummer. Her sister Kate marc...

CINEMATIC   O you silly little, just a boy, she can pick you up and move you across the floor -- there's a m...

Labor Day Water in the pool is murky, still. The pump off. Marigold petals flitter beneath the surface as ...

And That Was You Who Saw The World of No War, No Blood You saw the world In your own eyes, there was no war No...

An Hour-glass Sonnet   I had the fear that I wouldn’t be able to write a sonnet about the glitzy sand sinc...

The Mood of Now (after the painting by Yves Tanguy)     Now is the time    that all things happen Now the beginning Now th...

The End of Trouble Everything my teachers committed to  their blackboards looked to my eyes  like a chal...

Ultrasound They used to be joyful  the pictures of babies  used to pertain to me. But today my belly is swollen ...

The Heavy Shadow of Prior Encounters I keep my voice low, like a spy passing secrets. When they ask my name, address, date ...

Interview with John Ashbery conducted by Daniel Kane DK:‭ ‬In‭ "‬What Is Poetry‭" ‬you write,‭ "‬Trying to avoid...

Saudade (for Marina) At first I was trying to make my mind up where to go as I had no place to be. Initially, I was slowly swaying ...

a roman matron ! sisters of sabine, listen: all men are weak when disrobed of state (& composure. it is we, daughters o...

Suvorov Square At night, novels stroll on gravel  pathways; whispers and powdered  cheeks lifting with each white  breath. T...

ROTARY CHRISTMAS PROGRAM They came from the school next door. the Thursday before  Christmas Eve. Boys and g...

It has been quite some time since I graced the world of blog with my pickled observations, and for that I apologise dear reader. To be hon...

Doleō Pain is a part of me as much as writing is a part of me Sometimes it’s bloating and unbearable, Though at ...