Archive for May, 2012

She knew a nurse…

She knew a nurse

the loving kind

who left the jungle

on a rope and Huey


She did ride a Harley Davidson

looking for a way to die


He had a granddad

came home from the mud

and he is sure

the dying horses

never leave his milky eyes


There was a father, too

as much of him as left—

same jungle

similar mud


When she was a girl in school

she read Wilfred Owen to them all

Some teachers cried

Some friends looked serious


Then there was Falklands, Bosnia,

Desert Storm, Afghanistan


I’m told I’m bred of military men

they never had to look for work





EB Fay also writes at,, and

Thank you, thank you to those ‘following’ what I am putting here.


He measures time…

He measures time in candles

frugal even with them


Eat alone, read alone

and the shadowed corners and small compass

make loneliness less jagged




EB Fay also writes at,, and

he lights the sticks…

he lights the sticks they’d gathered

they are brittle, perfect now

they flame as planned


what is the occasion? she whispered

these were for emergency


i’m cold, he said

and leaving here tomorrow




EB Fay also writes at and

Connoiseur number 1 and 2

Number One


I like my poems anorexic

opined the connoisseur

I want to stroke their little bones


Number Two



oozed the connoisseur

is relative


my approbation is worthy of your suffering


I am sensitive

that is my gift




EB Fay also writes at and