That Kind of Safe, That Kind of Sorry

Daniel Moore


If rage is a rest stop on the road to forgiveness
maybe that’s where I’ve seen you before:

standing there, next to me, in a choir of fluorescent angels,
unzipping our prayers above porcelain altars,

weeping the liver’s gold lament into midnight’s mouth.
Pausing to sing, we wrapped our hands around that

silver throat, flushing the bluegrass blood away
to someplace safe not sorry. Safe as a trucker’s

skull smudged with a crowbar’s kiss, sorry as
the ecstasy born between drive and reverse.

That kind of safe, that kind of sorry, our
heart’s greasy pistons grinding till dawn,

till finally the last words squawked
like a chicken, headless, hurting and fried.



Daniel Edward Moore’s poems have been published in journals such as: The Spoon River Poetry Review, Rattle, Columbia Journal, New South, American Journal Of Poetry and others. His poems are currently at Mandala, Lullwater Review, december Magazine, Natural Bridge Literary Journal, Scalawag Magazine, Tule Review, Fire Poetry Journal, West Texas Literary Review, RAW Journal of Arts, Anti-Heroin Chic and The Chaffin Journal. He has poems forthcoming in Weber Review, The Stillwater Review, Hawaii Review, Blue Fifth Review, Bluestem Magazine, Paragon Journal, Plainsongs, Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal and Broad Street Magazine. His books of poems, the anthology “This New Breed: Gents, Bad Boys and Barbarians,” and “Confessions Of A Pentecostal Buddhist” can be found on Amazon. He lives in Washington on Whidbey Island and his work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Visit Daniel at