CH Gorrie

CH Gorrie Aug 2013

Writing

Writing.
A shambolic
translation of the soul,
or so it seems. Perhaps it has
purpose.

CH Gorrie Aug 2013

Sixteen

Sixteen
(at the day's end)
turns to seventy-six.
Don't scorn aging when so many
die young.

CH Gorrie Aug 2013

"Are you

"Are you
alone tonight?"
"I'm alone every night,
even when somebody's with me,"
she sighs.

CH Gorrie Aug 2013

Starbucks

Starbucks
should close some shops.
Only one every ten
miles would still be too much. *But...but,
coffee!

CH Gorrie Aug 2013

Spirits

Spirits
circling my mind
fizzle into focus,
then vanish. I wake. *Tell me, were
they dreams?

CH Gorrie Aug 2013

I watch

for Tupac Shakur*

I watch
thawed frost glide down
boughs like serpentine glass
and I shiver, spilling my scotch
a bit.

CH Gorrie Aug 2013

Lemons

Lemons
ripen, dangling
down; the tree a weary-
headed guardsman at Life's clear gate
to nil.