Two sides to my waking I awake in the room next to your sick-bed. Through the thin wall, I hear grunting sounds, sandpaper coughs, your rough imitation of your own voice.
poems by John Grey
A Dismal Place No joy in the world merely cattle nibbling lush grass sprouting from tilted tombstones in an old historic graveyard.
poems by John Grey
Grace In this dimly-lit attic, you open a trunk, unleash the Korean War.
poems by John Grey
The Kitchen Knives and I been here forever still straining to hear that lost chord linger after the others leave living under the constant pressure
poems by John Grey
History Repeats I sat out on the sun deck watching history repeat itself. My next-door neighbor left for work. His kids headed off to the school bus stop.
poems by John Grey
My Wife and I at the Symphony Five women in the orchestra, she counts them like the conductor counts time. Two violin, one cello, one oboe, one bass clarinet.
poem by John Grey
On Deck in Rough Water The ship rocked from side to side and I was the only one on deck.
poems by John Grey
Winter Child City’s snowed in. No one’s about. Nothing to do but admire the night sky through rippling red eyes. Not so much the stars. But the darkness that holds them in place.