A Mustang for Bob: Self-Portrait as Compost

Originally posted on O at the Edges:
  Self-Portrait as Compost Beneath the surface find warmth, the fruit of decay and mastication, of layered mixes and intermingled juices. Disintegrated or whole, still I strive to speak. Bits of me meld, to be absorbed slowly; I process and am processed: here, within the pepper bush’s deep…

Ghazal to Bob, in the Night

It’s a new year, but I haven’t changed. I cannot resist responding to awesome poetry. I do hope Mr. Okaji will forgive me taking his name in this vein… Anchors aweigh, we settle lower in the water every year we are blessed to yet bob in the night. Pockets emptied, we cast vestments to slaughter…