C. Cory Spencer Poems

The man, aged beyond years
gently pats his son's hand.
Feels burning heat of fevers.
Flush skin sweating streams just
...

A clean sheet of paper,
or a dirty torn scrape.
What shall I tender,
what in creation tap?
...

As
Once
upon a
Stolen Love we are
...

This is it, not then, not later, now!

Do not worry the past like a bone,
...

who are They of the mysterious, ubiquitous, self-righteous They?
who are They of the theorized, despised, allegedly organized They?
who are They of evil deeds, that crush our needs, and scoff at our pleas?
...

I once saw the man I would be,
then I lost him in the crowd.
Forgotten, until today, when
I saw me, across the street
...

have you ever seen an image,
on tv, or in a book, or maybe the inter
net, an image so disturbing it made you cry?
...