The Furious Gazelle

Literary as hell.

Tag: Rich Ives

Poetry by Rich Ives

Yesterday

 

The end of a century flipping like a calendar number,

and here I am kissing a short squat building where

everyone says hello, and no one recognizes me.

 

Upstairs there are families I once lived in, but

pawnshops have moved in like stray cats. In the garden,

 

rhizome dreams borrow the curiosity from a stare,

sending up tomorrow as a stalk and teaching it to listen.


Continue reading

Poetry by Rich Ives

Yesterday
By Rich Ives

The end of a century flipping like a calendar number,

and here I am kissing a short squat building where

everyone says hello, and no one recognizes me.

 

Upstairs there are families I once lived in, but

pawnshops have moved in like stray cats. In the garden,

 

rhizome dreams borrow the curiosity from a stare,

sending up tomorrow as a stalk and teaching it to listen.

  Continue reading

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