Apr 20 2021

postulate

i built a new corner
and walked straight into it

left the paint on the floor

drying

held my arms high and my head straight

buried the forgotten

forgave the remembered

worshiped nothing

but silence
and the tenacity

of trees

throwing spring green buds
into air

like so much
confetti

 


Apr 12 2021

picture perfect

squirrel fight

dove coo

blue jay belligerent

.

skin soaking up sun

anti mirror

wide smile

prismatic

.

desiderata

forgotten

.

and she walked
the center line
straight past
the pond
of forgiveness

.

 


Apr 6 2021

planted

the right thing
is almost never
the easiest thing

and i watch you
doing everything
the hard way

taking root
in the furrow
of new growth

this morning the sun
strode straight past
the center of longing

we’re both here

(or there)

dawning

 


Sep 11 2020

nine eleven

nineteen years later
that’s what we call it

not nine eleven oh one
not September 11, 2001
just
nine eleven

two words

three digits

two towers

four planes

thousands

of

mothers
fathers
daughters
sons
sisters
brothers
wives
husbands
aunts
uncles
girlfriends
boyfriends

not statistics

falling

from

the

sky

not dates
or where were you’s

just whole hearts
in odd numbers

each one

the only necessary

evidence

of love

::

.

.

I wrote this for the 10-year anniversary
of this tragic, horrid event.
I am re-posting it again today, in honor of all those hearts.
Never forget.

.


Jan 16 2019

time is the currency, valor the cost

morning mirror and happenstance
pulling hope down at the corners
of a month meant for introspection

snow blows sideways against a window
curtained

a sparrow fights for survival

everyone, everywhere
arguing about books

and this is silence
holding tight
to a morning
short on light

showing up
as always
never quite
arriving

.


Jan 9 2019

the misanthrope

is buried in alaska

i know this because
you told me once
sitting on a square picnic table
beneath a dry dark sky
lit with acid green borealis

cassiopeia and orion
the only witness
to a wedding meant
for other people
another time, another place
blah, blah, blah
you get the picture

just a far off
long gone
atmospheric memory
rippling light and music
to lovers in a land
we’d only dreamt of

we watched in silence
for hours
those hours,
cradling minutes,
the quiet,
bone cold
seeping up
through cheap
cracked boots
and hol(e)y
handmade
mittens


Dec 31 2018

thinking about grace on a muddy monday morning

with all these unwrapped gifts knocking at my ankles
and the color of contentment dripping down walls

there are words for almost everything
in the center of the room
but in each corner
it’s all dust and whispers
poised to destroy and bent on feeding

there is doubt in a vase
shedding sheer pink petals
and avarice growing roots
along white baseboard

the light is full, and golden
drawing pictures that pretend and
puncture actuality

as my fingers grow gnarled on a keyboard of instruction
poised for promises and platitude
never rendered

outside, the wind is howling
and still,
i am yours

.

.

.


Sep 11 2018

nine eleven

seventeen years later
that’s what we call it

not nine eleven oh one
not September 11, 2001
just
nine eleven

two words

three digits

two towers

four planes

thousands

of

mothers
fathers
daughters
sons
sisters
brothers
wives
husbands
aunts
uncles
girlfriends
boyfriends

not statistics

falling

from

the

sky

not dates
or where were you’s

just whole hearts
in odd numbers

each one

the only necessary

evidence

of love

::

.

.

I wrote this for the 10-year anniversary
of this tragic, horrid event.
I am re-posting it again today, in honor of all those hearts.
Never forget.

.


Apr 30 2017

it’s like this

there will always be days
stretched tight
by the too dry skin
of living

there will always
be evil
rubbing shoulders
with light

always be witches
dancing circles
at night

always a cloud
blotting out
the gold sun

always loss and possibility
mixing chance
in roiling ocean

it doesn’t have
to be enough

or even
filling

warmth is the illusion
of life

parody is pure
in the blossom of sight

and green things grow
from the cracks
in black ice

.

.

.

 


Apr 17 2017

blue on blue

suddenly
there is all this color
all this light
shining green through
blue glass
and
it seems absurd
to think winter
equals hibernation
but i awaken
and there it is
a new year
that did not exist
yesterday

.

.

.