I scratch the mosquito bites on my skin and the mountaintops wear away revealing the beginning and end of the bronze-age. Rusty nails puncture Read More
The atonal jewel in the broken heart
Of the wilted lotus and I guess I’m saying
That I can only guess given this heritage of rebellion Read More
Today I saw a man using statistics
As a drunk man uses lampposts
In the background a white billboard
Words in black print: Read More
Here is my daughter singing that Good Friday plead from the cross,
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom…”
Do you hear that sound?
Music no longer moves you
So an angel cries.
©2017, Amaya Engleking
Now don’t go getting too excited about a tax-refund shopping spree. First have a listen to this beat/jazz poem-song by Tom Waits, written in 1976, and you might think twice about how to spend your money. Or, the snaky salesman might successfully tempt you into trying the miracle product. “It finds you a job, it is a job… It sanitizes for your protection, it gives you an erection, it wins the election…” Read More
I drove up to the mountains sensing freedom, but drove past my intended destination of the hot springs. Something was moving me, I was not in control but I was enveloped in complete peace. The interstate turned into an off-ramp, the pavement turned into dirt, and the 4-wheel drive turned into 2-leg only. Where I could no longer drive up the snowy and muddy road, on the stereo Roberta Flack was singing “Killing Me Softly” and I, content with my own slow death. Read More