Poems

gone - bird song green leaf strong sun left - wind scratch bare branch ice air in - doors shut windows fire fighting cold 2015

Red radish. White radish. The Latin lovers of the garden, bundled and private in the soil, the long and short of shapes and skins of fire and snow. Yet, within the circumference of their fibrous form, both warm in the same way. 1971...

An egg boils on the stove, a tree in the forest decays to dust, cement sets in the driveway, ice melts in a scotch and soda, a wound scab becomes skin. There are hard things that soften over time and soft things that harden. What questions would these shape-shifters...

“Hi! It’s me.” With those words I expect to be known to the person answering the phone. Presumptuous. What do they have to go on? No visual clues, no smile, no stature, no beard, no form of facial bone, nothing but the sound of my voice, vibrations, tenor and tone....

Muscle Beach Los Angeles California An old man on his back on the weight bench shoves iron into the sky. The iron does not like being disturbed. Its allegiance is to the earth and it resents being pushed away. Every chance it gets it races home. The iron does not...

The bird on the rail is near, therefore, here. Then he flew across the pond to over there, which on a larger scale would still be here. Half a world away there would be space for ‘over there’ to be a separate place, until the walkers on the moon looked back toward...

Each day she is up at dawn to mend the sun. Quickly she stitches woolly light to the sky before the morning cools too much. With a song she rouses the grass and tickles the flowers in their beds until they giggle into bloom. The bugs adore her, the deer and the fox...