Above the east bank green rays beam from beyond The aquarelle of this dawn patiently emerges, brightening The fleeing the stars & indigo twilight Sand castles still guard this shore, surviving the higher wash of the nightRead more "Sunrise River (Río Uruguay)"
As if backyard tennessee reaches the edge of the pacific chipping granite til it bleeds sweet tea crickets refusing to be reined or digitized too hot for mason jars or any lidsRead more "Ready for Anything"
I wonder who lives in the house With the bright red chimney, someone must For on cold winter mornings Smoke bellows from the stack And the smell of freshly baked bread Stops me in the thaw and snap So, I linger for a moment And stare at this dreamy abode Lit by the soft edges of snow clouds And the sun a pale embroidered gold ‘All is well with the world’ then I say to myself All is well in the house with the red chimneyRead more "Red Chimney"
Do not excite about the newfangled spangles of your daughter without recalling your participation in the decimation of ours. You walked many paces ahead of my panicky lungs zestful in glory that you could outpace me away from your cells multiplying into something ours for a short verse.Read more "Love Poem to My Ex-Husband Who is About to Become a Father"
Blast! over the last ridge before pasture. The great white sycamore shatters the oriole’s net-nest. An autumn olive catches the fledgling, embraces its beating heart. Singed by relentless summer, hills west waver/duck at the gale.Read more "The Furies"
This rain pounds the arch hall with a glass roof, vexations of puddles over and above the axles, no time to witness how slowly the tulip emerges in curled lips like cups. Chills of wet hair.Read more "For the Young Who Are Afraid"
Fixed and firm you pull out frames slice wax caps and dip into combs of liquid gold. You tug red cashmere over platinum waves then smooth a tight, white skirt.Read more "For Sylvia"
Life, the iredeemer. No wonder there’s a God, not unlike there’s hate and always a dollar in St. Anthony’s change for a cigarette from the Pakistani or Indian bodega kept up by a family who kneels just the same to different names, and praises the canonized coin in their jars writ with wishes that God won’t stop depositing dimes or spare quarters for some beatific order: smoke, family, like love. What cans to be had.Read more "Redemption"
You see power lines and I see twilight But you follow me everywhere, even when I sail across seas, live in other countries, speak foreign languages. Especially when I speak foreign languages. They remind me of your many tongues, fingers in my mouth, body like a map revealing unknowns that make me all at once prepared and still afraid.Read more "This Wasn’t Supposed to Be About You"
Near the pressed powder next to the mascara the one packaged in pink she looks for Raspberry Rush. The cylinder brightens by the liner becomes beacon beside the blush where the concealer hides as the tweezers glisten atop 20x mirror. She removes the cap turns the case— ah, the scent of fruit and flower lanolin aluminum lake.Read more "She Applies Imagination in Times of Uncertainty"