Poetry Blog Post New Entry

Back with a Broken Cello

Posted by Wordmachinist on February 16, 2018 at 8:35 PM Comments comments (2)

Back like a dagger in the gut
no more ruts...I am screaming machinery!!!

Broken cellos make the saddest laughter
not sure what I'm after but
seeds can lay dormant forever
broken machines that rust
may be polished once again
and to each of you my friends


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Posted by Wordmachinist on April 11, 2015 at 7:20 PM Comments comments (3)

Stone ground
ashen beneath Father's biting-
  teeth, yellowed gnash

in the gash scar seam split
innocence not blood spills forth
 dry as decaying wind

friend walks, back turned
spurned by incessant voices; bile
  gone forever save memory

She likes me, lips soft
brushing back veneer of hatestain
  and I abstain, for awhile

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Damned for all of time

Posted by Wordmachinist on March 28, 2015 at 3:25 PM Comments comments (7)

Rocks in my words break off and crumble
where the tide polishes them
into luscious hues
and I wait
  with the empty wind
  and troubled mind
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Icebox Repository

Posted by Wordmachinist on January 4, 2014 at 7:35 PM Comments comments (2)

It's twenty below
stagnant air blows almost mechanically
numbing my face
biting my ears
a thick, stale fog ...
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Presumption by Tower Light

Posted by Wordmachinist on January 1, 2014 at 7:30 PM Comments comments (3)
Delving into the vastness I stumble
as the rumble of thunder dashes all hopes 
against the rocks in my whiskey
and the sky is black again
and I await her kiss
the only lips
that ever mattered.
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She's so cold

Posted by Wordmachinist on February 4, 2013 at 4:20 PM Comments comments (2)

Cracked that shell

releasing blood embryonic

gin and tonic for breakfast

and I rested.

Crumpled pack Lucky Strike

under the wheel

of my motorbike

and Julianna laid out

on Mike's couch.

Saliva silk from mouth to cushion,

coffee black just the thing

a meager string of compassion

passive detection.


I caught my reflection

in the glass cave of the microwave

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Round Belly Buttercup

Posted by Wordmachinist on January 25, 2013 at 10:35 PM Comments comments (6)




Chewed bar rusty nail

black and white no avail.

Whiptides whispers wind


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Tilt-a-whirl me, baby

Posted by Wordmachinist on January 9, 2011 at 3:07 PM Comments comments (7)

Tilt-a-whirl me, baby 

be the girl who said maybe
this fool 

deserves another


one last dance now baby

let's ...

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Posted by Wordmachinist on December 23, 2010 at 11:01 PM Comments comments (4)




There wasn't any room

in the station wagon

for a Christmas tree.

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Ashburg '97

Posted by Wordmachinist on September 24, 2010 at 7:26 PM Comments comments (1)

Ashburg '97

Greenjeans and Pancho Mulligan

sat kitty cat fat on the front steps of Pop's candy store 

and I listened to Mungo Jerry in my battered...

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