Thursday, December 18, 2014

Sucking My Spiritual Thumb

Sucking My Spiritual Thumb

My inner gravel
creates shoals in time fading
down the moody slope
of my own stillness.

It's the tobacco smoking
in the far corner
that yellows the day.

Am I sacred or just scared,
that is the question
behind all attempts
I make at the mandala
getting shallowness
instead of that depth
we all know is still required
should we try to fly.

‎December ‎18, ‎2014 10:46 AM

This poem utilizes all nine words in the wordle offered by Irene on the Red Wolf Poems site.

Red Wolf


  1. The leaps in imagery work so well and the title doesn't suck either.

  2. your inner gravel
    waas coarse early on
    but through years
    and time
    have worn the edges
    till there is almost
    no corseness to it
    like river stones they glide
    but it still sucks
    having a gut full of rock



The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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