words of a people aligned in their perfect order
I am St. Juan Grande Pecador in this new life;
unpredictably weeping and loving,
writing poetry and song.
so wantonly tired and worn but not sleeping.
sad that I cannot sleep next to you,
sad that I cannot sleep at all.
I think how I have loved you.
in morning and night,
I think how I love you.
I am St. Juan Grande Pecador
sitting in the sun, contemplating
the vagaries of kitchen table conversation
– Hoc Scripsi
One of the most loving things I have ever read
take it to the pamphlets and soon Guerilla pamphlets #15 are both VERY good bets
Take it to the streets poetry – many good links here for many good volumes
Get a subscription here if you can
Newer press but they accept some excellent work
keep checking this store for when it opens – if you want something you’ll have to beat me to it!
okay – that’s enough for today –
but lastly – it’s older than most being posted here lately but I like it.
dying roses are not broken promises
literal or not
we bled on pages
and pages and
pages of uncertain poetry.
women bleed with efficiency.
dying roses are not
broken promises as
are crumbling petals
no longer red.
– Hoc Scripsi
okay – I’m adding one today – don’t be a bully – this isn’t poetry, it’s about bullying and a very very deeply affecting story beginning on sept 24th post – read though from there to the most current – you won’t regret it and I wept openly.
I am so tired today, phase one of writing room finished – music room finished…
and here I am, mic in hand, flinging myself through the air and rapidly descending toward the sidewalks and one way streets of our beloved downtown Elgin, Il.
Holiday Inn
lights steady, turned on
at next doors busy restaurant
making midnight an artificial dawn
transients sleeping or trying
back turned while
we, looking out hotel window,
eyes wide
in uncomfortable bed
used by thousands.
N.C. 4-30-2011
– Hoc Scripsi
