Post-Titled Poem # 1
© 2003 Mark Pearce

Green.
Green captures my vision.
Flowing away from me.
Alive and vibrant. Reaching. Growing.
Pulling nutrients from the earth and sky

The Visit
© 2008 Mark Pearce

November 29, 2001.

I remember that night.
It was my fifteenth wedding anniversary.

He sat there, in the hall,
in a simple plastic chair.

Dandelions
© 2008 Mark Pearce

I reach down deep inside myself to pluck dandelions.
I like the herb to dot my yard in single digits
but its deoxyribonucleic acid does not abide.

It’s Better
© 2007 Mark Pearce

It’s better to steal
Than be stolen,

Better to be swell
Than be swollen.

Better to try
Than be trying,

Better to dye
Than lay dying.

A Man Not Named Winston
(c) 2007 Mark Pearce

A bit of a messiah complex at times.
A writer.
A fool.
Troubadour of love,
Venomous when confronted with deformity, propriety, or power.

Scream A Little
© 2008 Mark Pearce

The world is big and round
But it don’t spin on its own.
You got to give it a little nudge sometimes.
A little push –
A little shove –

Dream Triage
Mark Pearce (c) 2007

Flashpoint!
All hell breaks loose.

The time has come to choose
Between those that might live
And those that will expire.

Measuring Up
© 2007 Mark Pearce

Your talent is limited.
You don’t write well.
You lack in charisma and charm.

You’re not very practical.
No serious money.

Place Settings
© 2008 Mark Pearce

From behind the shaker of salt
the words "I love you."

Cosmos Revisited
© 2008 Mark Pearce

I licked the cosmos.

It tasted like minty ice cream.
The stars like sugar sprinkles.
The planets like dirty worms.

The texture was uneven,

Post Titled Poem # 2
by Mark Pearce © 2006

From the opening, you’d never guess
The winding, cavernous space within.
The team assembled

Interveinious Feeding
Mark Pearce (c) 2007

CSI and depraved murder.
Mortal combat. Twenty-four.
I know what I’m feeding my subconscious.
What is my subconscious feeding me?

Fung Sui
(c) 2006 Mark Pearce

Let’s build a purple mountain
On the Spanish plain
And move the cliffs of Dover
Over.

Let’s train a giant sequoia
Up a golden chain

The Note
© 2007 Mark Pearce

A drop of water
Had marred the note.
It must have been raining
That sunny day.

“I’m happy without you,"
Is what she wrote.
No one else knows

No Clouds Allowed
(c) 2006 Mark Pearce

No clouds allowed.
No clouds – Allowed.
Only blue skies.
Only the proud.

Only lush grass
And verdant trees.
Only red flowers