how evolution works
moments slip past
mostly unobserved
but for a handful of sunrises
clever utterings of children
unforgiven slights
and random indignities
held closer than successes
Quipping about
how every Beautiful Thing
calls bastards to shit on it
letting wonder fade
accomplishments recede
like a coveted beach rock
in shifting tide
or an algebra problem
not quite grasped
Entirely heady
barely comprehended
except at Fortune’s peaks
seems lucidity
thrives at high altitudes
from here the view is spectacular
finally noticing
how the kids have grown
god they’re not babies anymore
how air is better here
for breathing

For the Thin Spiral Notebook 100 Word Challenge: PECULIAR



Struck midsentence
honeysuckle breath
sweet-sour redolence
of youth

No making sense
station stuck
at full throttle



I am different in my life
and I don’t know how.

What do I do?
All the banks are closed right now
but I need to know
and I am different.

How do I fit in?
How do I get out of this place?

Original verses sung by my daughter when she was perhaps six years old, scribbled down by me and forgotten, recently unearthed. Perfect.



in the crook of my elbow
collects memories
like renzuru
conjoined against headwinds
tucked in the bend

There’s room for regrets
melancholy musings
all my origin stories
stacked up like displays
of rakes or greeting cards

This little pouch is new
and I hate how it looks
even while appreciating
its utility in sullen times


Forever a Sapling/Etoposide for Beginners

by Isadora Gruye and Marian Kent

Don’t bother pondering
what’s gonna happen
because it’s no secret:
I am coming for you,
and you can’t do a damn thing
to stop me.

Place those flowers in the trash can
and come closer, my sparrow.
For weeks, I have watched
mornings dissolve into afternoons
and no shadow as lovely as yours
has ever been cast across these walls.

Forget your lover, your children,
your poems yet to be written.
Forget the cherry tree you cultivated,
forever a sapling to you now.

Forget that my wrists
smell of iodine and bandages.
Forget that my toenails
have crusted orange from radiation.

Don’t bother giving up
your thrice-daily PBR
or try swapping bacon for tofu.
Don’t scribble in your journal
or make a fine documentary
lauded at Cannes
with 15 million YouTube hits--
The world might love you
but it don’t matter, you don’t matter.

Crawl into my sick bed, darling.
Rub your scruffy chin
across my fevered cheeks
and tickle my sallow knees
until they freckle.
Let’s give these blankets
something other than
deathwish sweat stains
to shake loose in the wash.

No race nor regimen’s
gonna help you at all--
You don’t even qualify
for a protracted goodbye.
I am coming for you
and you can’t do a damn thing
to stop me.

And then, we’ll lay still,
healthy limbs entwined
with my own.  
Knowing full well
there are worse ways
to waste away in bed.

Photo by Isadore Gruye

Seems like a good week to share again this collaboration between the amazing Izy Gruye and me, written two years ago. Be well, Gentle Readers.


Giving It All Away

Talk about
empyreal influences
interstellar traveller
aging voyager

Who are we
interplanetary authority
as the starry matter

Turns out our heroes
are not immortal after all
the rains keep coming
strumming so


Our Write Side Poet of the Month!

Dude. Yours Truly, Poet of the Month. Inspired!

Thank you & xoxo & etc. to Stephanie Ayers for the wonderful interview. And all of you, Dear Readers, should be following Our Write Side!
January Poet of the Month: Marian Kent


Beehive Cafe

We sat
across a table
dappled with butter sun
Sipping black coffee
smoke snaking
reading the newspaper
Here take this
you proffered
a book of matches
hitched jeans on hips
took your leave
People don’t still do that
I thought
But sure enough
a number scrawled inside
And I was left
to decide

Flash 55 for Real Toads!


Airguide 2016

All I need's
a compass
& a bright star
to navigate
this new year

photo by Marian Kent


The Meeting + Resolutions