Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Waiting Sometimes there’s all this waiting Around Doing nothing Waiting for something to happen Four golden eagles soaring into the abyss A lunar eclipse of the mind Soldiers marching on Rome Twelve abreast Goose stepping to glory A rocket man Continue reading Waiting by Joseph Ridgwell
The Lightbulb When constructing a bar from nothing But an empty carapace You need a handyman And I was no such thing Croatian Karl Filled that particular vacancy And as he got to work I sat outside the former clothes Continue reading The Lightbulb by Joseph Ridgwell
On the Death of Leonard Cohen She made contact through the writing Although I don’t think she had read any of my work She just wanted to bed a writer For maybe if she could bed a writer or several Continue reading On the Death of Leonard Cohen by Joseph Ridgwell
Chichen Itza I was standing on the summit of the world’s second highest pyramid When it occurred A powerful whirring in the gut And Egypt and the Nile nowhere Tourists climbed up and down the edifice With the use of Continue reading Chichen Itza by Joseph Ridgwell
Aristo It was back in the early days My Kings Cross days Everything was new A new city to explore And back then I was doing a good deal of exploring Always on the move Like a gypsy An acute Continue reading Aristo by Joseph Ridgwell