May your snowdrops thrive after the snowmelt; may your tulips bloom under an aspiring sky. Enjoy the tantalizing idea that it’s finally spring. In spring, when I always think of nature poems of Kenneth Rexroth, and relive...
Read MoreShadows and light crossing the fields this morning fills me with abundance. Although ethereal, moving through the je’n sais quoi of slanting light and rolling hills offers resilience through this land of sacred geometries,...
Read MoreThe risen sun is hidden clouds dark and dense the air saturated and heavy no creature is stirring but a lone man in swimming shorts walking through his garden the long grass soaking his feet as he inspects his resilient flowers...
Read MoreOnce a modest home by the river rented out by the Park Service then not rented, then abandoned to neglect and weather and rodents then torn down, turned to trash the trash trucked to a dump leaving behind a blighted scar by the...
Read MoreI don’t see them If I did I’d scream scat And poke them with a pitchfork. I sometimes hear them Caterwauling in the dark Not exactly the scat of Ella Those vandals in my yard Attacking my bird feeders Spilling seed,...
Read MoreBarry and Alex strutted down the street, arms swinging, buoyed by the smoke bombs and bang snaps bulging in their pockets. For them, the sidewalk was for stepping on the curb and pretending to dance a tightrope. Cars beeped at...
Read MoreWhen I was a child, I talked of childish things and so believed everything I was told, faith a matter of trusting all I had to do was ask, no idea that love is not a blanket but instead the will to survive the clashing gongs and...
Read MoreThat’s what the moon does when it’s full, one side exposed to the waking world for what is a measurable piece of time rumored to occur in a flash humans cannot see but on which wilder things...
Read MoreMy evening peters out by nine, then wakes to prowl where the darkness meets the dawn, that part of night most don’t know about, fail to understand, cannot appreciate for rolling over, pulling covers tighter for that short time...
Read MoreI have done at least One thing perfectly In my life I have faked my man Gone up in the air and Gotten nothing by net Perfect Now I write poetry And now no matter How happy I am With a poem It is never perfect It can always be...
Read MoreSomebody once said graveyards are filled with indispensible men—the same is true for indispensible women. I was indispensible once but that was when women in trouble came to me with coat hangers. Yes, in my own mind I was...
Read MoreBreathing in, you can’t go deep enough. If you drilled through the ocean, through the sandy bottom, through the liquid rock at the core of the Earth, it wouldn’t be deep enough. Breathing out, you can’t spread wide enough. You...
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