Sparrows Open, white page yawning out morning. My notebook sidesteps any focus. I’ve forgotten the raw taste of captured ink, I’ve lost where the words reside on my lips, against my eyelids. Our black cat gazes at his watery reflection,... Continue Reading →
Three Women ++++++++++++ For Phoebe ++++++++ 1. Sylvia who taught me— early—words were knives— She showed me how brittle they became when she sharpened my tender ear. Whispering to me: Vowels float like balloons. ++++++++ 2. Denise said: Taste! And... Continue Reading →
from the porch swing from the porch swing, I see people pumping past their limits, cars swinging like pendulum to the extremity of what I see as road, sun slinging light this way into the dry street, clouds swinging shade... Continue Reading →
Carpenter Sunrise From my window I see branches dripping gray fog. I face a long day heaving heavy boards, testing my brittle back, glasses wet with sweat, porcupine fingers bristling splinters, shaping lumber with a clear heart. +++++++ Carpenter, carpenter,... Continue Reading →
April in Indiana Squall clouds romp and rumble east, flashing memories of the root cellar located in my grandparent's back yard. An underground bunker born out of fright from Palm Sunday tornadoes in 1965. I remember the static on our... Continue Reading →
Morning Joy The sudden birds of morning, then the light and the distant line of horizon, knife-edge of the world. The air is keen with rustling. I hold this, I hold all this, saying Yes. About the Poet:... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 