My Mother's Sunset A poem by Diane Frank My Mother's Sunset What I most remember about her paintingis what she did with the sky. A band of bright orange, but rapidly fading. That tangerine stripe at the edge of the... Continue Reading →
Sophia's Hands A poem by Diane Frank Sophia's HandsJust before she was born,her father tripped over Emily Dickinson's grave.Her poems are wiser than her years,and sometimes I wonder howthese words can come from a penheld by such small hands. Her... Continue Reading →
Fire Walk I fall through the ice where your collarbone cracks. The deepest wound is just below the rib where the breathing stops. Sheep run down the mountain in cumulus clouds that shield the body of fire with the mystery... Continue Reading →
Earthquake, 5 A.M. Temblor wakes me with a kiss. On the other side of the wall, a whirring of water. I open thin blinds to calla lilies, belladonna, the garden of early morning light. After the earthquake the neighborhood dogs... Continue Reading →
Dreams of the Ecliptic To change a girl into a kite, +++ tell her that love is the moon. To teach a tree to sing, +++ put a harp under its branches. To change a bowl of dust into a... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 