Seven Women In Line at the Pharmacy at Dusk We are quiet and courteous. The woman with Tylenol lets the bent-over woman go in front with a cart full of incontinence briefs. A man tends the scanner and register. His shirt tail needs tucking in at the back and his hair could use a slicking […]Read more "Seven Women In Line at the Pharmacy at Dusk"
St. Oswald’s Day Buying a ticket to ride the first ferry from Seattle to Bainbridge, the ticket seller’s window sign screams: “Leap Day!” I ask her. Then latte makers, the cigar-smoking pug walker, and the policeman with a bomb-sniffing beagle: “What is Leap Day to you? A holiday for card makers?” “If your birthday is […]Read more "St. Oswald’s Day"
Naming of Parts After Henry Reed Spring eased the almond blossoms open and promises of cherries while we named parts left over from winter. Collusion. Taking away, reducing, throwing in the trash legal widgets that keep the water pure, air open to the cherry’s pollen flight. We named parts with words round to our tongues, […]Read more "Naming of Parts"
The Little People Three little people hang out on the the edge of my bookshelves quietly reading the life history of corvids the courtship of red-tails light on yoga a book of Celtic legends and Anglo-Saxon riddles. They cross their feet in zazen, permission granted to enter the narrows, follow the ways of shelf elves. […]Read more "The Little People"
Isolde on the Shoulder of St. Andrew Revelations 19:17 – And I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried with a loud voice, saying to all the fowls that fly in the midst of heaven, Come and gather yourselves together unto the supper of the great God. I am she, that red-tail […]Read more "Isolde on the Shoulder of St. Andrew"
The Goat’s Eyes I go to the stone wall to call the goats not from my need nor from theirs, to be with them. A herd gathers under the bent apple tree soft nickering does curiosity in their low-tone bells swinging bags of dwindling milk over dimpled apples we bathe in sunshine their wild eyes […]Read more "The Goat’s Eyes"
End-of-August Misgivings of the Old Woman Jealous of the First Grader’s New School Shoes the sign down the road – do not pick blackberries – yellow jackets our final peach pie pits and skins swarming with flies a sketch of bird song in a failing tree broken fence railings dry foxglove seed silent rocks in […]Read more "End-of-August Misgivings of the Old Woman Jealous of the First Grader’s New School Shoes"
Potting Up the Peppermint One drop of motor oil rainbows on a puddle. Limitless mileage of mycelial felt tugs at roots. Platters of map lichen spread across the patient boulder. Metastasis. Proliferation screws up to war. Epidemics. You’ve witnessed ignorance stretch boundaries of hate. When you yearn for peace, cut sprigs from the tub that […]Read more "Potting Up the Peppermint"
Raspberries in June He asks me to come by, read her some of my garden poems at four o’clock. June sun will be high and hot through the windows in her hospital room. She may sleep. The surgeons opened up her abdomen from stern to pubes and poked through the curves, bends, folds and hiding […]Read more "Raspberries in June"