Category: Poetry

Good Morning small room with no windows, folk punk and three birds squawking at me— I slept on the floor last night I dreamt of running a potluck without contributions and barely any food I quit my job, spent all my money on chard and italian cheese I … Continue Reading

with you: an entrance when you open your eyelids glitter specks of fever dream and its a buzzing day a day to burst and fruit a winged seed in sun hips knife and writhe, soft hair filling fist   … Continue Reading

Cowpokes spun lasso diction across a white girl’s youth. Storefronts seemed larger than they were just as what I presented was flat. A mustache on one man’s lip stood for passion, on another’s meant death. What was I to do with the heavy weight of skir … Continue Reading

including the Peter Pan bus driver. He seems normal enough – until we’re on the road. With him at the wheel and on the microphone, he’s got a captive audience. “This bus will make the following stops: New Britain, Connecticut; Hartford, Connecticut; Sp … Continue Reading

The click, click of old Irish gold and wedding ring passed from nurse to hand, after a tug over a knuckle cracked and rooted in the past like an old ground stump.   Across the dance floor, at the Heidelberg bar, after a stranger’s slap to the ass … Continue Reading

                                     for Les The wood is entered from a settled place, its darkness a murmur that hangs like threads of time, vines indescribably local yet never seen before. A pond, perhaps vernal, seems to hold everything I do not kno … Continue Reading

When I was young, my friend said, I have a geographical tongue – and opened wide to let me examine a map cracked deep into pink sponge, roads laid out in the whale-belly of her mouth. At the same time, my fingers would go numb, turn white. I rubbed the … Continue Reading

Naked in a canoe, you emerge blossoming like tawdry April in a town that’s turned its back to the river. The span is iron trestle, riveted to carry freight, all green and rust. Magnolia, dogwood strike out improbably against the wet and dark forgotten … Continue Reading

Her face lit up the sky Hovering there In full control of tides and time Nothing so banal as day But night And crops And blood And seasons All that matters All that mothers … Continue Reading

In those days change was law. After the day’s lawn faced the sky blue speech, Or its parade of clouds rolling like floats east, It looked up at one or two stars, Bordered by the two darkening maples and one big willow. The lawn had no eyes, but the diz … Continue Reading

                                                    for Arlo The black night of old constellations has not yet thought to open its eyes. You are tucked in your car seat, bundled against the pre-dawn cold. In the glow of the dome light, I lean close to … Continue Reading

No more than the bird with piercing voice do you stake my heart, the dumb drum that feels its own concentric pain, no more Then the bird with piercing voice stakes a wider, colder claim than yours, to which I’m bound but no more than the bird With pier … Continue Reading