Author: Richard J Tilley

  • Secrets of Emphasis

    Entry, to the lost arc Where the pleasant wrinkles do not seem be lost But still remain total, where fragrance Is stunted, like a bowl of contention And secret memoirs...

    By Poetry

  • No One is Working

    In conversation with my imagination she said I have unresolved anger and deception in my heart of triumphs like a cool dolce vita wind, pasteurizing the plates on cadence and...

    By Poetry

  • Neil Young, the Capitalist

    He will be remembered fondly And not for his folly A great man, indeed A man who continued to create art Writing songs into late in life But he insisted...

    By Music, Poetry

  • The Train

    Springing aboundingly among the timid oak trees Stole cash from the neighbor’s stolen pets for oxygen Cold stems from half-frozen flowers of the made-up dream Conspiracies in oak dismissed in...

    By Poetry

  • Early Morning Hunger

    day release in commingled rehearsal and the subsequent prices for the gallant seasons of matrimony and told-off spirits, the ghosts belonging to God – Her right hand hungry for the...

    By Poetry

  • Foreknown Illusory Object Language Chains

    I do not hear your transient hips subject to the tall, tall saints where withal joint and climbing limbs like sanctified smarter courses, unattended as tall as his voice, waiting...

    By Poetry

  • A Poem Recited by God as Best as I Could Understand Her

    Sacheon rowboats curled in difficult strokes, so timid, so elaborate by the colors of dusk and clouds and entry like a stolen shuttle that beats out a homing signal for...

    By Poetry

  • The cattle and the stocked brigades

    surfacing the waters of farm exegesis to the cornered cow dreams farms of marked indulgence towers of commerce shake steadily within steward sands and lost journals gathered all around me,...

    By Poetry

  • Why is there snow in dreams?

    unrushed, unconcerned conduct at grace for the referee She is shaking her head at me “There are times when you surprise me. Are you going to tell the world what...

    By Poetry

  • The Ruse of Dreams

    There are so few ready moments It is mostly improvisation around the coils of time’s dominance over our action and disillusion over the rust of our dreams

    By Poetry