Author: blackbearreview

Whereforestrange things surfacesuck souls barely knowingthey are alivecry as they’re lostto hate.

I choose to be seen for whoAnd whatI am To let it be knownThat I would rather shiver in the coldThan let one person stand aloneIf I enter these spaces by the grace of my face I betray my sisters, My saviors Who are shut out from this placeAnd I do an injustice when I

Waiting for the wind to changeHer mind to rearrange a strangerWhose face is fear, flashes of death and dangerPresiding inside hallowed halls of bathroom stallsAn image, shattered glass shards, a life apart from all that was With ease and simple pleasuresTo wander freely in the night, to speakWithout the need to make it a fight

A deep double-Throat, singingFrom beyondHeaven (or hell)Echoing in natureAs it finds itself Heard inA human voiceLike a whale’s call PerceivableBy its likeEven afar acrossThe whole Pacific

-519- Iheardthe flittering ofbumblebee wingsamidst the dandelions,beckoning the mothers,whose babies heads poppedoff,to weep milky whitetears for the wind their childrenwill never know.Shorn free of their emeraldfabric lashesandleft to bake on pavementfor the blue jays, sparrows,and garden hose.Lifted bythe cool smell of wet gravelon this,the day the rusted spokescarried me through the dustand out into open

Jigsaw is the tool you use to make one.Such a human hobby, cutting up the picturejust so that, on a bored, dark winter evening,we sit down to make the pieces fit again!But when it’s finished there are always cracks.You have to back away and keep your distanceto cherish the illusion it’s made seamless.We are amongthe

Tiny House North wind’s sizing up the houselike a boxer his opponent, throwing an experimental jab or two before the real buffeting begins.No use trying to sleep.The Hunter Moon cruised off earlyto low-ride that pocked face over some other boulevard. Yesterday, Delaware friends called to saya King tide is slapping their front steps about and