originally published 2010
The angst of the well fed falls
deafly upon my ears
The whines of the dreary privileged
Are like fingernails
"1st Place Winner of the Open Community Poetry Contest for the period October-December, 2011."--ed.
It starts in the brain.
Lingering fogs of morning hanging grey as the sun tries desperate to burn through with a moment of clear thought.
The milk still on the counter sweating sodden pools down to the floor.
A light is on in the room long empty.
Still the haze settles in the lowlands of the mind.
There are no words because there cannot be any.
There is no I for there is only dualities joining inside.
"Runner-up of the Open Community Poetry Contest for the period January 1-March 31, 2012."
There’s an urgency to the toil now.
Deep the tines pierce plunged and tramped beneath boots thick caked.
Backwards the staff pushes and falls lifted and levering matted quitch grass twitch and taprooted taxaxacum rhizomes twisted wrapping steel in knots
"1st Place Winner of the Open Community Poetry Contest for the period January-March, 2011. Read the full interview with Mr. Miller here."--ed.
Poets come complaining of a poem lacking flow.
Even when it drips. Heavily. Steadily so.
Hungrily readily these interns crow
Ignoring the soft tissue.
Whilst other patients die from misuse.