Writing in a Cabbage Place
Today I am feeling the pressure of cabbage. Really, cabbage. The opaque
vegetable reminds me of a fat baby-faced candle you keep peeling back, only to
find it has no wick, just a
L.L. Barkat
L.L. Barkat is Managing Editor of <a href=http://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/>Tweetspeak Poetry</a>, a site committed to helping people experience a whole life through the power of writing, reading, and
Ten Acre Dream
“We want to live off the grid,” she tells me.
I hadn’t known she was married, that she had eloped three years ago. She and her
husband live in a small apartment
Pittsburgh
Snow has fallen on Penn Avenue,
as golden morning, fallen, melting
and I walk past Heinz dead sign
pouring wishes red by ruffled bird
head cut near booted print of water
gathered on
The Art of Drinking Tea
On the third of July, I sat on my back porch with a cup of English Breakfast. I
was there to write an essay about
[http://highcallingblogs.com/9642/independence-day/] the Fourth of
Return to Sloansville
I close my eyes,
blot out one hundred
and fifty shale driveways
pickup trucks, Ford
pintos, trailers barely
tied to this ground
by wires, gas lines
cable TV.
I can still see
dirt