w.e.b. darwin (featured in Cut Dead But Still Alive) by Gregory Ellison

In the fog &

In the night

there comes a sense

of second sight

the gift of gab to rouse the bear

and calm the mouse with gentle care

in the cave, i hibernate

& to the mouse hole i escape

in neither place do i find home

to lay my head

i am the lone

then to the treetops I retreat

unfurl my wings in nested seat

adaptation is the key

not second sight

but I have three.




Copyright 2016 GE II & Associates


3See by Gregory Ellison

strangely, at the age of three

i wondered how my life might be

if i could see the world

through other’s eyes

I call it child-sized empath-eyes.




Copyright 2016 GE II & Associates

iron cast by Gregory Ellison

reddened wire twisted coil

just above grease stained tin foil

baptized by fried chicken splatter

and last night's catfish batter

cornered rust on fading stove

a corner piece of quaint abode

dark shade of red metallic brown

glazed meatloaf,


cherried pineapple down,

What a friend in Jesus hummed

bubbled grits percussive drummed

upward outward aroma fall

olfactoric wake-up call

pancakes buttered in a stack

cheese eggs sizzle on cast-ironed


is beautiful

charred toast good for ya teeth

finish dem collards and dem beets

cornbread, ChaCha bring da heat

taters, turkey, gravy; meal complete (then…)

turkey tetrazzini on toasted bread

turkey vegetable soup on Auntie’s sickbed

turkey sandwich for dinner; openfaced

starving kids in Africa,

swallow that turkey!

we don’t waste


round wooden table steps from the stove

formal dining right off the alcove

food for thought imbibed in either space

fearless dialogue iced with grace

when our talks were on a roll

(peach) preserved nationalistic goals





love, money, sex a feast of therapeutic lot

timer dings

grandma brings

pound cake piping hot


thank God for that professor

from the royal city of fountains

crowned little me with dreams

while standing before mountains

anterior to sheepskin

at Emory and Princeton, too

I matriculated at her table on College Avenue


For Franceina,


Copyright 2016 GE II & Associates



wanderings by Gregory Ellison



In the terror of the night

I wake from sleep in shivered fright

I come to realize I’m not home*

Without hesitation lift the phone

To hear a voice to bring me home

Let’s me know I’m not a lone

A prayer, a word of solace there

A listening ear to offer care

A chilling one this journey is

The daimon leading to the id

then from terror into joy

calming for the frightened boy

a return to home safe from harm

into the warmth of mother’s arms

lonely still but away from there

mystical wanderings of being care


                        02 October 11 _ GE2


*Psalm 84:5-7

Copyright 2016 GE II & Associates