Sparrowgrass Annual Poetry Contest Winner: 2nd Place, 1997

Lilac petals bleed like sunrise
the ocean’s voice like a hand 
between my thighs.
Like the ancient dead 
We ask.
Hoping on embers tyranny
when we drink our fate and cut ourselves 
with razors
to let what’s inside out
Surprised sometimes at what escapes.
Cracked open like a seashell 
on the pavement of a rising tide
A different, decadent, poet’s new nightmare.
Disarranged and distorted 
promises all unhinged.

At times it all but vanishes,
with half-gone Saturdays and 
intermittent inspiration
passion as thick as 
that day in the rain,
I retreat to that solace 
when sleep eludes me, 
my sheets in flames,
the truthful simplicity 
the somber asylum
of my eternal, internal 
worship of 

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