Quintile A copper token forges a place in the unlit sky. I can see the contours of another life playing out in dim silhouette. Bodies and foliage in swirling arabesque sculpt a new astronomy. A chimney’s blue smoke obscures the... Continue Reading →
Garden of Eden They will call her the widow with no grass. In a gated mobile court, she builds a garden, fills every inch of ground with shrubs, trees and vines. Inside the double trailer, her husband lays dying of... Continue Reading →
Not Blue, But Black She spent childhood afternoons at the bathroom sink, hand washing and wringing, cutting her twelve- year molars on hunger for certainty. Riddled by compulsive tics, her feet encased in depressive concrete, she survived with pills and... Continue Reading →
Blood Draw I walk like an old truck with a bent frame ready to wander off the road into a head-on crash or drift into the ditch but somehow maintains its direction down the center of the slow lane. I... Continue Reading →
Awaiting Acceptance I will have coffee and cigarettes on the porch. I will watch the morning build itself from fading dark. Men will arrive, and I will think that this is work I could do myself, but it will not... Continue Reading →
Readers here are familiar with Poetry Breakfast. A morning nibble of poetic nourishment. But Poet’s Lunch and Reading? I am not much good at explaining. Especially when things grow organically. A seed dropped by the wind. Planted in my yard. ... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 