7Dec 2017 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

Snow Blankets the Eastern Hills

featured in the poetry forum
Come look. From the balcony. If you shudder and cough a moment later you’ll sigh. Tell me. Is sister sleeping? Is the landscape weeping? Is Abigail peeking? This landscape so... Read More
editors note:

And, is sleep what waking is like? (This poem comes from Darryl’s recently published collection, Life’s Prisoners. You can get your copy here. Congratulations, Darryl!) – mh clay

7Jul 2017 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

Strippers

featured in the poetry forum
Evening descends like long black hair unbundled. And beneath the Empyrean stairs three gold teeth, lipstick, a thin, cherry red smile, and impervious iron hips, Jesus, drum drum tirelessly thumping... Read More
editors note:

Confessions from patrons of the oldest profession. – mh clay

11Jan 2017 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

Life’s Prisoners

featured in the poetry forum
If I can breakfast with them then I can frugal repast with you. If I can socialize at the early table with them and trade throat lozenges in between the... Read More
editors note:

Continuing the search for common ground. Speak! – mh clay

14Aug 2015 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

A Spring Awakening

Seventh grade chemistry class. Kenneth dug deep, like a planter’s hand. He worked a potter’s green thumb. He scratched his thinly haired groin beneath the school desk. Mrs. Garvin, his infatuation, used a walking cane that tapped tapped tapped. Her skirt fluttering in synchronicity. O Mrs. Garvin wielded her cane,... Read More
4Jun 2015 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

10 pm. Stopped. Frisked.

featured in the poetry forum
One Man cries I Am I Am in ecstasy and terror as the Lord cried to Moses. Three men decline to listen ignoring a sensibility behind prophesy. A nearby parking... Read More
editors note:

Nice! Dylan said this, too, “Don’t follow leaders – Watch the parkin’ meters” (We welcome Darryl to our crazy conclave of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

8May 2015 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

A Whistle

So many evenings, while sitting at his desk, typing, the poor, hungry writer heard a whistle. And it was an exceptionally skilled whistle. The lips captured to a tee the sliding up the scale, then suavely sauntering back down the scale whistle associated with paying a compliment to a hot... Read More
16Jan 2015 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

The Shy Man

Shyness is climbing a circling staircase. Shyness isn’t stasis, paralysis, paranoiac fear of leaving the house, venereal disease, fire ants, or rain storms. Shyness isn’t cabin fever. Shyness is ambling along beneath cloudless weather and noticing the same buildings the same houses. Again. Again. The dead lay down. The terribly... Read More
30Nov 2014 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

The Daily Globe

featured in the poetry forum
The words rise. Like angels in heaven, sent to make communion with the neighbors. In twos. In cherubic threes. In choral fourths. Sweetheart. Have you been well? I push aside... Read More
editors note:

Every spin o’ the globe awakens us; beauty sees beauty. – mh clay

5Sep 2014 Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

The Star Puppets

featured in the poetry forum
Sashay to the boardwalk, scurry to the ditch Just another future song, lonely little kitsch - David Bowie The nightmare was neither bad television, nor kitsch. Whatever it was struck... Read More
editors note:

We ARE stardust, dangling by the singed strings of chance. – mh clay