Tanner discusses the climax and fall of Richard III after his persuasive scene with
Elizabeth, mother of two slain young sons. Moulton explained that the structure of the play
primarily consists of four nemesis actions. In each, those who triumph at first
The blue roses fill the stage like a crashing wave. I sit in the front pew next to your best friend,
whose eyes are blood-shot night terrors. She heaves deep as if her grieving pains will rebirth you.
The room smelt of cigarette butts,
At night he used to creak around the house
locking every door
making a second revolution just to be sure.
He bought her a glass parrot
when she told him she loved birds
but couldnt own one
because they were only beautiful uncaged.
Origins in a Rear-View Mirror
The 1955 Ohio lid was a sundown blush.
Sam reversed his Chevy behemoth
until it squirmed out of the sludge.
Johnny jolted into the cab,
a thundering mischief for 40 miles.
Sam turned to his best friend with a feral wide-brimm
The blue roses fill the stage like a crashing wave. I sit in the front pew next to your best
friend, whose eyes are blood-shot night terrors. She heaves deep as if her grieving
pains will rebirth you. The room smells of cigarette butts
A Series: Human Salutation
Transience: the idea that life is moving, that things are dying, and that everything is always
changing. Times inevitable seasons and movements can only promise that in life nothing is
certain. The loneliness that ensues from th
I propose to write a collection of poetry centering around people watching, stages of
grief, and lifes universal stages of joy. The idea is to start from one life (pregnancy, conception,
birth) and to follow a timeline
Yosemite Signals by Chris Fannin
Sitting atop Cathedral Spires, I overlook Yosemite. From Half Dome to Tuolumne lay a fall of
fire. Colors worthy of a reckoning. Underneath feet there lay mysteries of the
most sacred kind. In the forest thick I spot smoke
In the hallway I stand
Pacing to push down the floorboards
Yesterday, we were Monica pier ferris wheel bright.
But the light from this morning shone in a LA haze.
She says she could be.
I thrash to hold in my hands the dizzied tire tread wo
Tiny finger pads burrow into obsidian soil tearing away wild grasses
Excavating for gems and finding sticks to be as treasure troves
My nail beds fill to the brim with black fractions of you.
Not far below I unearth worm and bolt and
Why are you gone and where have you remained?
Questions I never asked, nor you answered.
Dalton park holds all your smoke ghosts laughter.
Swing sets hold still, empty hanging cold chains.
Cigarettes and deep breaths to restart