Category: Poetry

(Triversen Poem) I often look at birds, any bird, land on telephone wires and feel the bounce in my skin. Ageing into wire instead of feather and beak, while I long for hollow bones instead of time passing by. I want to jump...

This child asks, “Why do you write poems?” I answer in quiet phrases that move like a brush in watercolor. “You see, words are seeds planted in the moonlight and in the heat of day. Dormant below the surface of a rock like...

Every child is a poet and for that I rejoice. Imagine the silence if no one listened to the bridges of children’s words that swish and swoosh, making confetti out of leaves, the Titanic from a stick in a gutter, bellows full of...

the yellow sights of autumn always made me feel womanly not this year, this year they call my name and seem to say— you lost your luster that overwhelming sense of fullness, I had when the amber hues of my hair played naturally...

For John William Waterhouse The Lady of Shalott hangs above my headboard reminds me that marveling in pre-Raphaelite mirrors has its price since living in reflections drains the imagination…cripples one’s character; each night I...

“Nights in White Satan” played on your phonograph we moved to the rhythms of Moog synthesizers, Moody lyrics, and social revolution, touching each other’s minds with words of our own: promises, confessions, lipped gestures and...

When cottonwood fibers windsurf on the breeze And smoldering August night curtains close Scarlet-yellow scars brush maple leaves Butterflies couple, geese migrate in rows. Wolf packs howl at the blood moon overhead Grey...

Elsa Lanchester, the Bride of Frankenstein. hung above my bed next to a crucifix the former my chosen heartthrob as ten-year-old peers invested a growing interest in women via popular culture, crushing hard on Anne Margaret,...

The absolute messiness of indecision, the absolute messiness of dirt on the floor, the absolute messiness of how I got here. I carry the landscape, generations of hopes and desires, in this thin china cup that has lasted several...

I once saw the face of God. A vast and sudden slice of radio silence, among the noisy heavens. That evening I dreamed that I listened to one side of a conversation I never should have overheard. And so I do not watch the skies...