November neighborhood
In the switched-off kitchen I peered through drapes of grey lace, transfixed at the sight: a mirror hall of backyard infinities, benighted in a mute of blue. The straight rise … Continue Reading November neighborhood
At the beach, in morning fog
At water’s edge I plied the sand for vacant shells and stones to skip, so flat. There, there was a tree that had given up, acute in its angle, embarrassed … Continue Reading At the beach, in morning fog
Rawhide
Move on, we must. In boxes and bins, I carry my proxy love to the Stow-Away garage. Outside, the smirking cat has his wild bones on, drawing a bead on … Continue Reading Rawhide
Packing my bags
An apprehensionof not knowing the next move An assumed wordleft outthat should have been there The world goes cartoonish Walk with mefor I may not know the way Talk with … Continue Reading Packing my bags
Night shift
This is wee, the hour. I play coy with sleep, thinking that if I ignore it and feign that I am fighting it, it will engulf me out of spite. … Continue Reading Night shift
Dirty birds
Down here, tonight, on the green ground, it’s quiet and still, vacuumed. I look up, by chance, to test for rain. The darkening clouds sail, like a float of smoke. … Continue Reading Dirty birds
Dramaturge
I was one for Drama, but the frame was the thing. I wanted only to be the swelling strings, the muted xylophone, the kettle drum tympanic. I would whip the … Continue Reading Dramaturge
Keep your focus, please
Detect the fault lines in a stubborn peanut shell Wet-nose the whiskery cat Feel the points he makes out of soft pads Let the large leaf ant explore your jungle … Continue Reading Keep your focus, please
Weird girl
She felt like a foot with uniform toes. Something to cover, but familial to her apartness. In her years, she picked up tools both shiny and showy, but of the … Continue Reading Weird girl
Temptress
A still pondpadded with liliesdappled with netted sunCicada humMy green restPlease-pocket the stoneand let it alone-I’ll paint youas someone sepiaand fleetingby this bower’s dome
Imagine that
What does it hurtto give way to imaginings,at least for a time?To close all the doors and windows,pull the drapes,and make some hot tea.To conjure some moorsand wuthering weather,hear a … Continue Reading Imagine that
No words
Looking back, I think she was afraid when I saw her truth. We had never spoken, but in the group sessions, she surprised me with split second glances and strange … Continue Reading No words
Here is a Book of Faces of a nobler sort. Each one (that can be seen), beautiful in some way. If we but read between the lines, we can divine … Continue Reading Twitter
Puppers
We were nine. I believed everything you said. Touching a toad gave you warts. Step on a crack, you break your mother’s back. Kill a spider and it rains. We … Continue Reading Puppers
On my way
In a while, maybe, I will not know you. Don’t cry or be afraid when you do not know me. There’s a short story yet to be told, and it … Continue Reading On my way
A hand taken
Trickle-down drops and slowed lightning speak to me of pathways. Oh, I know that practice makes perfect. Must I learn, once again, what was glossed over too quickly? Numbers and … Continue Reading A hand taken
