© 2021 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
a mouthsewnshut can stillmakeasound before you love anotherlook in a mirror until you don’t existthen smash the mirrordrink from your bleeding fist In the circleI’ve pressed my lips. If you press yours there … Continue reading
© 2020 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
I like making things, and since my husband Akram’s drawings often fit my poems perfectly, I’ve made postcards out of them. In the time of an inundating Internet and a pandemic, postcards are something physical that a friend has … Continue reading
© 2020 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… My mother pulled the black snake from the bush. Long snake gone from fleeing to being held twined around her arm and opened its mouth but mother only laughed and let it twist. Her friends who had come to … Continue reading
© 2020 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… These three poems are from the Prologue which is from of a longer work called The Final Postures of a Dying Whore. This is where it all begins. Enjoy. … … … I write the word: I am behind … Continue reading
© 2020 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… On a sad day of losses big and small someone left a flowerpot in the hall that wasn’t money or plenty of time but if I wanted it the thing was mine alive for sure because hint of a … Continue reading
© 2019 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… Poet Laundromat was filmed and directed by Tom Miller who saw me do a performance of my poem Fucking at Inroads, a venue for performance art in Soho in the early 80s. He’d just bought some video equipment and … Continue reading
© 2018 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… … … … … … … … wind touches skin wind isn’t skin wind … words are birds … eye is sky … Dear Words Reverberating on my eardrum’s skin you come in like a finger on a guitar … Continue reading
© 2018 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… On Sunday, April 29, I was featured at the Zinc Bar with two other poets, Ed Friedman and Elinor Nauen. I woke too early and was tired and talked too much between poems a little incoherently. But the crowd … Continue reading
© 2018 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… Reverberating on my eardrum’s skin you come in like a finger on a guitar string. Sound sends me quivering. Some places hands can’t go. You touch the soul. But I’m not saying hands can’t talk or what is meant … Continue reading
© 2018 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… I was in Philadelphia and crossed the bridge to Camden. “I’m satisfied,” I said. “There’s grass growing here and I no longer care what anyone might think of me or what the future holds or when and if comes … Continue reading
© 2018 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… I think that I’m a candle whose flame stays round the wick whether set in one place or carried never wavering an inch from where I’ve always been. I hold out my hand like you did. When I’m happy … Continue reading
© 2017 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… Like all of human kind the rocks along The narrow beach are all somewhat alike Yet each entirely different. We Pick them up, Honey and I, searching for The ones we want, the ones that touch us. They Are … Continue reading