Author Archives: Tony Single

threshian harvest

it’s alright, it’s okay
you can lay me down now
in that circle poised for decay
or maybe tomorrow
or maybe back then
hell knows when

it’ll always be too soon
to attend such sadness but
it’s alright & it’s okay anyway

i need only as long as i get
& maybe moments more
for my life to matter
for to fill it with you
& the scenes we’ll ne’er keep
when our play is done

it’ll always be too soon
for such sadness to mend but
it’s alright to live & die anyway

you pay your debts with pain
then seek a new currency
& nurse that barb wire heart
but ask what joy would do
even when i’m gone
see, it’s alright, it’s okay

it’ll always be too soon
to pen such sadness but
it’s alright & got a poem anyway

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

TROTTERSVILLE #2

  • Schadenfreude
  • Шаденфройде

You can find TROTTERSVILLE #1 here > Ba Dum Tish!

by TONY SINGLE & TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024

hush hunting

a sound with the force of cotton on skin
the sigh of a newborn sprout leaving its seed
fish tail swishing beneath the crescent waters

hush, careless hunter
you’re the thorny crown of evolution
creeping between the boughs in tuonela

shod with the intemperance of steel
girded by the rapacity of gold
leaden with the dullness of expectation

hush, warless hunter
your former life lays in smithereens
far from the sun in the lap of louhi

and you’re doomed to ghost in the shadows
until the end of days or ebb’s white never
ears leery to the thrum of nature’s quiet demise

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Secrets. by Bliss Carman (William)

Three secrets that never were said:
The stir of the sap in the spring,
The desire of a man to a maid,
The urge of a poet to sing.

by BLISS CARMAN (WILLIAM) (1861-1929)
Public Domain Poetry

tumbleweed

i’ve wandered far from the shadow where i fell
‘tween the rotted roots of concrete monuments
& the ever glacial drift of meaning

they call me cottonmouth behind my back but
who among can boast of less complicity
or with forethought exercise restraint
& concede that less could be more

at least i’ll admit i am not here to teach you
so learn for yourselves of the self & its value
in this late stage cage of crumbling margins

they call me cottonmouth behind my back but
who among comprehend the half-life of aeons
or can find wisdom so thoroughly hidden
& concede the point without the question

i’ve wandered far from the shadow where i fell
‘tween the monetised myths & wholesale burnings
& the never-ending grift beyond meaning

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023