August 26, 2012 § 5 Comments

you leave your shoes
when you go out hopping

between her and me and baby makes three
swimming the grey puddle betwixt

its amazing fur stays fixed, murky white after your nights
you leave your shoes

cant say I’m bothered by the silent
on my porch, at two or three

cuz when you’re with me, its dirty
not the fluid putty pile

that makes me, her and her smile
you leave your shoes

by the bruised tile mile
then you usually float a while

and baby usually rocks a while


for dVerse Poetics , gorgeous painting is by Borg de Nobel and its called Dreamhopper.

Surveillance I

August 19, 2012 § 1 Comment

Graziela started sitting outside the cabin in the woods 3 weeks after she found it. It was a culmination of odd behaviors that were a direct result of its discovery. The introduction had been because of Ron and his favorite clearing in the forest. Ron and Graziela we neighbors and secretly friends at home. Lou and Prince Bonnano had been chasing Ron all year for his lunch money and then, his grandfather’s watch. Ron hid in the clearing never once discovered by the Bonnano boys. But it did seem to be made to enchant Ron and lead Graziela to someplace. And it did both in one summer.


July 17, 2012 § 9 Comments

most times
isn’t it about
jumping without a net
below you
believe enough
in yourself
to jump
without a net
below you
I believe
in my strength to land
safe or
crash well
or pick myself up

Not After All

July 11, 2012 § 1 Comment

not one to shirk
heard your first confession
with ears like saucers
and a yellow butter cup heart
not once but twice
tasted the salt of your belt
training wheels and all
as you were in the wind,
on the lam, emotions like bars
of a jail unguarded by skeleton deputies
not just one thing but many
wrong and seldom forgotten things
trig and trying
hard reliving
unyielding relieving
hesitant reviving
split shoot striving bullet
trouncing a path for the wicked
not forever but maybe
misclassified heart-flashes of clarified mutter
whoopsie daisy
after all

Will Rise and Fall

July 3, 2012 § 3 Comments

Be volant, wings above all things,
the angst and sorry patchwork pieces
squares away where verdure grassland
borders in the past had touched, blades
intertwined there annuals grown to
bewail don’t forget don’t forget, it
wasn’t the right, parting like lips, imagined
hope perhaps too much to miss, too much
it would be an itch under skin till
fingertips would be back with
measured words and new plans and
new rules that would move forward
but be volant as good as pretending,
all a’glide, never a’fly, each thing was
felt with that part of so hard to see
how that could be, but believe an idol builder
crashing to our ripe land, soon fallow and
out of rotation yet receptive of a melted
wing beauty who cannot help but be volant
there are wings, above all things.

Too EasyGirl

June 11, 2012 § Leave a comment

It is so easy to descend
don’t want to be, mediocrity
fling ring toss my poems to the bed posts
too EasyGirl
I’m no goddess.
I’m no cupcake.

Tussled Daisy, by Eric Alder


June 8, 2012 § Leave a comment

out Out OUT!
just can’t do this

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