Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

PETALS,


white, fallen
yet rising, on the walls 
of a red room.

*

Ginger strips
on 
the tongue.

*

Asking
for what is
wanted.

*

The clang of a cowbell
in an alley
somewhere.

*

Multiplication tables
in the very fingers
that work chop sticks.

*

An argo
of what is said
and not said.

*

Ancestral
need:
belonging.

*

If only
the waitress
would smile.

*

The dreaming
is what really feeds
the orphans.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

CAVEATS WITH ZEROS

Balance sheets and coverage ratios.
Accretion schedules.
A prospectus.
These were the needed things.
To assess the risk.
To anticipate the anecdote
before the ending.
To know who the lender was,
the borrower be,
and when along the graph
they’d trade places.

What was needed
was more prudence
and fewer caveats with zeros.
And a promissory note
stating the venture
would not be a callable affair.
That the investment
would reach full maturity
and secure the return,
the reaping hoped for,
which had always been
part of the inspiration
to speculate, in the first place.


Thursday, March 12, 2015

SIGNATURE

Where have you left
your fingerprints?
In clay, on canvas,
in clouds?
On raven’s black beak,
a lover’s flesh and hollows --
where wings once were?

What nets have you cast?
How wide a circle did they draw
when they landed?
In what water?
Under what sky, sunshine?
Under what grace?

Thursday, March 5, 2015

“NO LOITERING”

Sky blue building
bathed in an a.m. russet

where a man is tacking up
an alabaster sign,

yellow hand drill hovering
above his head.

He is finessing
for dead center

and a level line.
In the meantime,

the bold-black letters
and their demand

are dismissed
with a growing disregard

by the rebel sun.