Author: Richard J Tilley
-
Sold and Regretful Ceremonial Pails
There are many scabbard memories Tied to pails on the ground Ceremonial matrimony where the paperwork Is long since documented by radge secrets And secretaries that warned you Against being...
-
Previous Incarnations
Among all previous incarnations We were puppets pulled from dancing strings. Did you not dance in the doorway Within the bleeding channels Of rivers that may? Tied to the last...
-
Circumstantial Elodea in Short-Stern Withholdings
Notes on the morning of Nov. 5th, 2024 There is a tattered math to the elements of bodily waste Canadian pondweed tied into the superstructure, for’ard and dreich television nominations...
-
Bobby and His Grinning Flag
We all die with the soldiers singing “Me and Bobby McGee” Like a Friday streetlight out In the morning Torrents of sold love to the Minimum bidder Smoldered wet sounds...
-
The Rage of Historical Context
Chattahoochee Wedding bands Over our shoulders Revisiting the same institution For the fifth time Sex in the woods, on a park bench In the suburbs Unwanted showers Effeminate men /...
-
Earth is the Consequence
Earth is the consequence Of charming laughter Smoking salads in plain oyster trees Loved like dice on the table Loved like a telepathic pitcher plant I have handed over my...
-
Resolutions and Desolations
Her grip sailed past the afternoon corn Past the rain-trees and forest canopy For the early mornings of June We sweated in bed, atoning for our disgrace God’s mask is...
-
A Tariff on Trust
Slowly, a meandering hunger saws off frostbitten fingers to make stew of coals in the fire / persistent it will find joy Slowly, a patient stands naked not awaiting surgery,...
-
There are no more strangers in the terebinths
Elijah has been lost to me for years He thinks I have forgotten his ways His memoirs, his tattered journals But I have always held out hope That he would...
-
The interlude of frequent intolerances
She was there on the mountain gripping Her hand before the captured peoples She saw the stalwart tidings in the firm abyss of the smoking strangers too hungry to be...