Ragnarok - VIII
The dawn above the east was solid light From edge to edge. If all the sky were one Piece of soft paper, dipped into a cup Of melted luminescence, that light crept Up it by capillary tug, spread out Neon infection through the fiber sheet, Just so...
Ragnarok - X
Like a gazebo in an empty park-- Where silent is the playground, where the paths No longer feel the tread of shoes or hear The jangle of the collar and the leash, Where wild and weedy tend the lawns, and trees Grow forestlike and rough--where once...
Ragnarok - XI
Somewhere it was after midnight, when The long hours of the morning stretch ahead Sideways, so that they wider grow and can Contain more night and not take up more time. Somewhere a boxer wandered in his dreams Down streets abandoned, over bridges...
Ragnarok - XVIII
As does a man who from an areoplane Leaps for heart-stopping sport hang for the half, Half-second that his heart is stopped, and sees The world spread out below, amid the clouds, And wheeling slowly, like the stars at night, Until gravity finds...
Ragnarok - XII
Somewhere it was sunset. On the hills The last refractions of the scarlet sun Licked at the upper edges, like a flame About to catch on paper, but below All now was more than darkness, as the bars Crossed cruciform around a lantern wick Grow...
Ragnarok - XIII
Where once the yearly snowmelt flood had carved A narrow serpentine defile, that poured Itself onto the plains until there was No more snow left to melt, now were there walls And roof, rough hewn and roughly thrown into A rude, windowless,...
Blank Verse Essay on the Haunting of America
If you tell stories long enough my friend, I think, if you are honest, you must own That stories told here, told about here, try To turn into ghost stories. Only by Supreme and rigid force of will can you Tell any story in this land of ours And...
Midnight Rendezvous
No i don't care about iambic pentameter or am very good at poetry, what gave it away? ~7,300 words detective andersons cruiser idles in the parking lot of a small gas station surrounded by massive pine trees.
A Folded Bird
pentameters. when i write, i write. i don't think about why. i don't fit it to meet structure. i just ... do it. i do it because i can, and because," he said, trailing. blowing out a breath. and then sipping more water. "i hate the poems.
Grayson's Triad Book 1 -- Prologue
Watching robbie tear downfield, a brown-topped light gray blur of speed, to line up a shot at the goal, is (if you'll pardon the cliché) poetry in motion - iambic pentameter at the very least, perhaps even dactylic hexameter (thank you, longfellow).