Flight School A poem by Peter M. Gordon Flight School Mid-February, Central Florida Bare tops of maples, sweetgum, sycamore, reach for the sky along Windy Wood Drive and sway with weight of dozens of common grackles resting after practice flights. Blue black feathers make them easy to spot... Continue Reading →
Tick...Tick...Tick...A poem by Peter M. Gordon Tick…Tick…Tick… I host a bomb in my body.Only doctors who read scans see it.Sometimes I can feel its ticking.Sometimes I can forget it’s there. Sarcoidosis, doctors name it. Latinword makes it sound scientific.Perhaps we... Continue Reading →
I Want to Be Married at Home Plate My bride in a frilly white dress spilling over the white rectangle marking the left hand batter's box She twists her spikes into sugary dirt digging in at the back of the... Continue Reading →
Good Bottle It's a good bottle of wine Dry, with a hint of plum infused aroma of dark Napa soil I am drinking this housewarming gift in my freshly painted kitchen in the middle of the night Lifting the glass... Continue Reading →
Reading Seamus Heaney While Watching Baseball Funeral in Derry shouldering my father's casket. Fastball on the outside corner catches the cleanup hitter looking. Grandfather cuts sod, downing a pint of milk amidst green, rolling fields. Batter tops ball toward third... Continue Reading →
Rays Fans Every April we fall in love with twenty-five men knowing they will break our hearts. We whisper their true names in late night stat sessions. Carry talismans embossed with team symbols. Each win fine wine. Only we fans,... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 