It is not the sturdy
wooden beams
that raise
the house
aloft
that I study
but instead
the rotting
wooden plank
still dark
and wet
that has
washed ashore
alone
that will hold
my attention
forever

It is not the sturdy
wooden beams
that raise
the house
aloft
that I study
but instead
the rotting
wooden plank
still dark
and wet
that has
washed ashore
alone
that will hold
my attention
forever


I awake, heart quickening its beat, fingers slowly unraveling, gently looking for love in your still sleeping body, while, elsewhere in my brain, old grievances […]

They were on the fishing boat’s fantail,and he was having difficultylighting his cigarette in the sea breeze. Remember the scene? She opened her coat for […]

I have no strategyfor when I open my mouth.I’m just a lucky fucker. Darren C. Demaree Darren’s poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear […]