http://slow.writerscafe.org/deadlinux The original writings of author Dead Poetix en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775986486 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The chaplain waits in the doorway,like a crow on a black branch in winter,looking for glittering things lying lost in the snow. She swoops into the hospital room on black sleeveswith sharp glasses and a calm voice. She speaks of making peace,sees my mother laying quietly alone,no family around. Bird.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1867505/ White vapor cascades downthe frosted windowpane.The tingling shower heaton my neck. The forked veinson my left hand, the brown molebelow my sternum, my chest stillbaring the same three struggling hairsaround my n****e, feet still below me. I'm still human--a little less white now. Less flat, tempora.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1867503/ --for Po Chu-iWhat glorious gumdrops are these?They move in the white snow--red, yellow, blue, green--shining brightly. Wondrous Christmas!Single file, proceeding inside,they curve around the sidewalk,decorating the cake of newly fallen snow. Oh! How I read you, Po Chu-i, now!Was this what you wante.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1867499/ -- to Robert BlyYou wanted us to be your children, born and liftedto you in golden light, heirs to your tools and words.You wanted to bear us on your shoulders abovewhite dunes, carrying us further into the cold prairie.You wanted to protect us, like a father would,nailing on storm windows be fore w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1867497/ In the hours it takes to drive across one state,stitch the twelve inch wound shut on your right hand,one you have cradled since childhood.Work with your left"quivering, sweating from pain.In the minutes needed to set your wristwatch to daylight,grind an anthill into the soil, send thousa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1867495/ To the fish, I ask,"What are your dreams?"and they sit silently in the water.So I wait for them to crowd aroundthe question---poking, and nibbling.I know if I pull the hook away from them too soon,they won't jump for it.  I know if I pull too hard, the hookwon't set, the bait wasted. So I wait... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1867492/ A dream I had about the poet Thom McGrath a long time ago: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/thomas-mcgrath http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1842739/ At a green light she looks left across two impassable lanesof traffic and you honk the horn (in your head). You're behind her.The silhouette of a hand attached, cupping her earlike a Van Gogh with second thoughts. Maybe a smile full of teeth.And laughing. Laughing with her ear cut off from the horns.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1840988/ Each winter is distant, but then in summerwhen I swing closer and closer to youI get hotter and hotter. But each year spins further out from the last.Now, Jupiter keeps eyes on me,and Saturn jealously guards his ringsin case I come scavenging for shiny things.They know the colder I get, the further .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1840977/ The trees are full of the thick loud fruit of crows,dancers, talking in tongues. Touched byfullness they sway back and forth, wailingsomething more than the snow or the sky. Dancers, talking in tongues, Touched bythe stony sky and the dancing trees,something more than the snow or the sky. My eyes, w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1840973/ Back when Pluto wasn't a planet and all that http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1840300/ It is the middle of the winter of the heart,or it is summer -- I am never quite sure.                 - Marvin BellSo the pills began, and I walk forward into the next day doing what? Hiding upstairs in the bedroom, door closed,fearing my d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839931/ That summer I cut wood for pallet makerswho nailed particle board and two-by- fours together,smoked cigarettes, and when they stood in front of the fan,said they don't get paid enough for this s**t,it's so f*****g hot out there.But one man, in his fifties,skin burnt pink as pine, corded forearms tau.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839928/ No time. The winter has come and taken allthe golden strands of hair, and buried themunder an shawl of snow. How attractivecan the fields look when their faces are covered?This is a summer plea. The sky glistens,a mist of ice-- shattered rainbows, flashing crystal.My regret breathes with me inthe he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839926/ Those pilots aren't persuading Larry to pray right now.The wings buckle and hold true, the soothing voice over the speakers calms, and the steward(esses)s bring just the right amount of gin. Larry doesn’t need to praynow. As the Rockies crumble underneath white spiderweb, and the woman gently .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839925/ Please don't let them die, you said.But only dirt is left in the flower pot, brown and dry, smoothbetween my fingers. Bright purple stones laid on top.     I went through little rooms lined with people looking for hope,              &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839924/ For every word grew in you, wild creep in your veins untilthey broke the skin, bloomed, and died, dripping brown curlsonto the pad, over your pen,on your keyboard. You saw them,they came out of you, you wrote them down. But you can’t sing along -- You see your daughter's mouth forming words, y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839915/ 1.The deepest hole to live in, bury this part alive.Can I tell you, and you’ll believe me? That these years spent silent were forming a dung cocoon, a makeshift grave, a place to bury happiness because I was afraid of it? Hurtling balls of light, gaseous huge nuclear factories, couldn’t .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839908/ It was a moment when we, as ants scratchingthe earth for the next thing to drag down intoour communal hole, stopped looking at the night skyfor peace. We stopped looking up, and insteadkept looking ahead, at a mess of televisions,ahead, at our phones, like tarot cards, ahead, moving into a house mad.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839225/ Solomon issued hisverdict: "Bring me a sword. Divide the living child in two, andgive half to one, and half to the other" . The two mothers'reactions were worlds apart. The first mother pleaded with the king:"O my lord, give her the living child, and by no means killhim!" But the second mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/deadlinux/1839223/