Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
My Mind Has Forgotten to Age My mind has forgotten to age as I have lived my life within the continuation of avoidance towards living in default. Default is what was easy, but never what felt alive. From within my Continue reading Four new poems by Dan Abernathy
The Troubadours Praise the troubadours and their medieval ways. These balladeers and misfits help us look at the world through extraordinary eyes. This is the clan of vagabonds where my heart was conceived and born. Dan Abernathy. Welcome to the Continue reading The Troubadours by Dan Abernathy
Cicada Bukowski wrote, you are not a writer or a poet until you use the word, “cicada.” So I produced a sound from vibrating the membranes on the underside of my abdomen. It was shrill, It was loud, so loud Continue reading Cicada by Dan Abernathy
The Parade I walk naked in a small town parade with nothing but a faded flag wrapped, flapping and popping behind me. No one notices, no one cares as I step over horse shit and remember the gray colt, the Continue reading The Parade by Dan Abernathy
Potatoes I watched a young Irish mother in Belfast, Ireland head butted by her Catholic husband. She was holding their new born baby, taking to loud at the dinner table for his militant comfort. She stumbled back, eyes glistening and Continue reading Potatoes by Dan Abernathy
Pock Marks of My Life 1. Anticipating a handout from someone that might care, an army of homeless prophets stand at busy intersections holding cardboard signs with messages that read to no one. Advertising to a community that only looks Continue reading Pock Marks of My Life by Dan Abernathy
The Toilet Like rats trapped in a hole-less metal box we all wait for something to happen. Life, age, happiness, sorrow and pain, all advance as we stretch to reach, or recoil with fear. We cuss and complain, seeing it Continue reading The Toilet by Dan Abernathy
The B-Side of Reality The filthy and threadbare rug still lies on the floor of the dust obscured attic, in the old and dilapidated shed where, with reckless abandonment, I lost my virginity. The ramshackle shed still stands as a Continue reading The B-Side of Reality by Dan Abernathy
Unaccepted Normality On her back she lays, legs wide open and the sperm of man oozing from her womb. She knows this is unaccepted normality, but it gives her the attention that she so desperately commands. Each giving, each forfeit, Continue reading Unaccepted Normality by Dan Abernathy