Category Archives: Poetry

What kind of day
is this fallen day?
Miltonian. 
The devil is in 
that which prevails.
Good and evil,
the originally gainful
dialectic
prevails upon cusses
to sound out
bad words.
Go to 
shell,
oyster.
Stay below
the surface or 
the slurp 
will come for 
your briny depth
and you will find yourself
in a poem about 
woodworking and
walruses.