Magicians Father raised bright tiger lilies and roses the color of the sunset, that slow, daily apocalypse. Trumpet vine and Copa de Oro, orange and gold as the wildfires that ate up our dry hills each Fall, when the wind began to howl and rattle our old wooden house. Some nights, we were a family […]Read more "Magicians"
Falling Leaves The monk asked the autumn leaf Are you sad to be falling? The leaf replied by waving to the tree on its way down to feed the soil, singing softly, See you soon!Read more "Falling Leaves"
House Without Mirrors This house is fresh, unspoiled. I want to carve love’s initials in its walls, never lay a hard word against you. In this house, clean of memories, I could still be good to you. New floors, fresh paint, no chairs. [image: Erinn Hargis Photography]Read more "House Without Mirrors"
Cathedral of Leaves Summer is here, and I don’t want to leave my porch. Steeped in slow heat, I sit and let my thoughts unspool, watching the smoke from my burnt offerings tell stories in the sunlight— backlit leaves like stained glass windows. A jay squawks and time stands still . . . I become […]Read more "Cathedral of Leaves"
Three Dogs I watched three dogs play in the surf today, they were not heartbroken at all. They had loved, but it was pure: sea, air, salt, sun.Read more "Three Dogs"
Milk When I learned your mother hadn’t breastfed you, I wanted to do it. Having no milk, we would have to imagine it. “It tastes like moonlight,” I would say, feeling the silent warmth empty from my breast, a grown man suckling that long denied nourishment, a homecoming. [Meet the Moon | Christian Schloe]Read more "Milk"
Unbreaking The Vase After death spat me out of its dark belly— I had to learn how to breathe again, had to walk through the forest, willing my pain to drop through the soles of my feet into the dirt, the earth transmuting my troubles with its tender indifference. The wind has picked the sorrows […]Read more "Unbreaking The Vase"
Horses I know about the wild horses in your head. Your skin, that sings with the sandstorm of their manes. My pulse also gallops with their racing. The grasslands of my soul have been swept flat with the winds wept by their tails. My heart has been worn ragged by their hooves and I can […]Read more "Horses"
Distress Calls If you are sailing and need help, but have no flares or rockets on your ship, there is a signal of distress a person can perform physically. Stretch out both arms on either side of your body, then slowly raise and lower them repeatedly. Pretend you are a bird flying in slow […]Read more "Distress Calls"
January Month of poems. Bark, rain-stripped and grey. Tears of amber sap, of cold, frost and snow days when even the birds go inside. Winter hedges us along, the red berries bright against the rust-brown, moss-covered, lichen-mottled shades of January. We must be careful what we think about these days. We’re at the age now […]Read more "January"