And when she awoke, the darkness was so complete she could not be sure her eyes were open—or, if even, she was awake. The whispering of the rain at the window—groan of joist and beam in the wind—could just as well have been a...
Read MoreHow long you waited atop a bookcase At the second-rate thrift shop I do not know, But you caught my eye with your color So I lifted you to find your price. Too undistinguished to call a “vahz,” You were a...
Read MoreFrom this writing desk I see Out the window at my side A young father with two sons Trio up the street through sun and shade. Dad stops to kneel before the oldest boy: Something about a shoe. His tanned head down, He reaches to...
Read MoreRoof was a good dog and he loved Iris, had since the first day we’d brought her home. He barked when we pulled up and I got nervous all over again, and when we walked in I held her down to him and said, “This is Iris, Roof.”...
Read MoreA pair of mallard ducks flew frantically above the red tiled roofs before banking sharply towards a large pond. They glided into the calm water agitating its smooth surface. The male, with a distinct fluorescent green head and...
Read MoreAcross the bay: the tip of the lighthouse pierces the north end of the flat fog bank draping itself over the harbor like a hen covering her brood, the summer night soft and downy, safely oppressive, as pleasant as childhood...
Read MoreYou were most beautiful after you were gone, so often the case with love when your father took your mother for granted or she would rather have been an artist than a wife. But there you are. What I recall was not the rhino...
Read MoreThe horse: difficult to provide for because of the divorce, but necessary nonetheless, for how does one survive except by disappearing completely in to love, that distinct smell and muzzle, ...
Read MoreLike water down the well of your back, I trace my touch over the slope of your ribs, feel your ujjayi dove reverberate into my anahata and all is a soft static I hear the echo of mercury waves rock steady under the pink moon...
Read MoreFor the nights he spent on foot wondering the wakes the summit had left in its ofference as exception to earth, a dream would come like a lightning bolt and ground him and confusion would dance between spliced ions and scatter...
Read MoreI study the shape of her open mouth as she says it. The cringe of her nose and upward pull of cheeks. The word on her lips as if: we are longtime friends, girlfriends even, who share secrets, know each other’s birthdays, our...
Read MoreTo be born in the fire of yesterday and breathe as if more is to come. This sorrow that fills us, heavy with the ground of our need can also lift us like the scattered petals of spring buds. Let it sing with the ache of new...
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