Category Archives: Poetry
The Fields by Witter Bynner Though wisdom underfoot Dies in the bloody fields, Slowly the endless root Gathers again and yields. In fields where hate has hurled Its force, where folly rots, Wisdom shall be unfurled Small as forget-me-nots.
Crème Du Halloween by Kevin Trammel One gob pickled innards, Ten drops black bat glop, An ooze of dead men’s gizzards— Stir, pour, and chop. Add a pinch of spider’s eyes, Garnish with false alibis, Serve atop aged, rotting flesh. … Continue reading
overcast like mourning robes five white horses on a small hill tears of rain soft upon the window
I’ll be reading with Taylor Graham, El Dorado County Poet Laureate, and Michael Paul, at the El Dorado County Public Library in Georgetown. If anyone reading this happens to be in the area, come on by. It should be quite … Continue reading
Waiting on sleep, gazing up through the window at the bright cold and clear night — Orion strides in magnificent stature adorned with incandescent jewels. And there is Sirius, and over there the Pleiades, one a trumpet sound of light the … Continue reading
With a rake I spread the last embers of the bonfire like fiery butter and I stand basking, gazing down into a sky-full of red stars
Pine cones leaning, standing, sitting buddha-like along the path — monuments to beetles, whole planets to fleas, menorah-like jewels to my own eye. I can’t get over how they wait. So quiet here in the still woods. On what secret do … Continue reading
Wind rolls through these leaves in long exhalations as Atlas labors at the wheel that turns the seasons — now from the last gleam of summer into full autumn. Leaves in maples reflect fires in the furnace that fuels this … Continue reading
The orange gourd rattles in a spectral sky Shadowed shrouds of mist from icy fields fly Heaven’s hollow dome coldly echoes a strange cry Dreams once hopeful wingless by dark stones lie. _________________ by Kevin Trammel
A modest recipe for Halloween (from a previous post). Crème Du Halloween by Kevin Trammel One gob pickled innards, Ten drops black bat glop, An ooze of dead men’s gizzards— Stir, pour, and chop. Add a pinch of spider’s eyes, … Continue reading
Long purple fingers of creeping mist Black trees before an orange moon list Warmth and light of day could not resist Entranced all fall toward a shadow tryst. ____________________________ by Kevin Trammel
Red demons by a roaring fire leap Gathering power outside the sleeping town’s keep Summoning Hell’s hounds from caverns deep Readied now to scythe and reap. ______________________________ by Kevin Trammel
Hallowe’en Rhapsody by Kevin Trammel Written while listening to Tartini’s Devil’s Trill The Devil crouches low in the dry moonless field and watches with wide black eyes the dim lights of the house in the wood. Plucking foxtail from his … Continue reading
The rain patters on fallen leaves, Dripping from musty eaves — The call of a raven.
through Indian Summer we drive swirling leaves behind us — death’s glowing portals so near
It’s hot and dry in the Sierras like a blowtorch. The wind in the puckered oaks sounds like a raging fire. There’s smoke standing in the air like the unseen presence of a dragon.
Every night the moon frolics in the stream — yet show me what it has touched or even a shadow. -A rendition of a poem by Takuan, tr. originally by Lucien Stryk in “The Crane’s Bill”
Walking a path on a hot afternoon, shedding a heavy mantle of work’s entangling thoughts, my attention’s drawn to a shadow on the path — a dark purple swallow rests with his belly buried in the sun-baked sand at path’s … Continue reading
the rivers are by these storms made mud red — gashes at the feet of mountains raging westward — the life of the land bled into the sea.