Song for Guns & License
Paper mill town closed down. Sporting goods store the big draw. Hunters shop for camouflage, a new barrel gauge. Deer season. Six months here, I’m… Read More »Song for Guns & License
Sample poetry by Lenore Weiss
Paper mill town closed down. Sporting goods store the big draw. Hunters shop for camouflage, a new barrel gauge. Deer season. Six months here, I’m… Read More »Song for Guns & License
It was a humzinger of a dream, baby, I dreamed it for you, baby. Gypsy Rose Lee put away your feathers. Things get muddled with… Read More »American Dream Sequence
I dreamed a silicon chip looked like an Aztec mask, a great yawning blackness where a mouth should be. A dying vampire awoke in a… Read More »Plane Time
To My Dead Namesake To the dead Lenore who always appears on the same Google page, an interloper who comes up in search results by… Read More »To My Dead Namesake
Books UPS taped and labeled, my proxy before I landed in Shreveport where a shunned bullet path stuttered like a roman candle, and a bag… Read More »We Watched a Mystery on TV in Your Hospital Room
She sits on a bench wearing a carved tree resin rose black garbage bag filled with acorns, eucalyptus leaves, her bandages of flesh. Whatever she… Read More »North Lake Merritt Bench Crone
Last night I crossed the condo’s parking lot, caught my towel on an open metal gate soaked in a Jacuzzi during a lunar eclipse, moonlight… Read More »Always
Inside the discolored sink of her hands, a woman leans over a single spark. Hers alone to nurse this foul splinter. To smother with rocks… Read More »One Moment
There was a telephone pole two inches tall. One night in New York City on January 3, 1948 at three o’clock in the morning, the… Read More »Why the Telephone Pole is not a Shrimp
Before there were cities, the hydrant lived beneath the ocean. That’s where she got all her water. When the fish were thirsty, they swam up… Read More »The Story of the Hydrant