What’s Left of My Grandmother’s Signature
In her room at Poet’s Walkher first name begins witha cursive J elegantlycompleting itself on the wall,
resting in suspended...
Never Times Never (Shakespeare in the Pacific Northwest)
The poet, gilled
aches—
Salmon
his singular
fling upstream
arches hard—
spawns another poem
another daughter.
Having evaded this time
the law of...
The Thing about Mornings
I’ll never forget
We slept
Splayed on memorial benches
Morning dew falling on locks like overgrown caterpillars
Crawling to crystallized captivity
Your smile
Sunrise evaporating what moisture...
Sea Monster
A secret: all the oceans are one oceanAnd the ocean looks the same everywhere.Nevertheless, let us praise the white hour,When the depths disappear...
Neoplasm
Sounds like an art movement --Neoclassicism, for example.
But this is no art form.This is a biosphere of portentous possibilities.
Tubular, twistedand prickly papilla
what sculpted youinto...
stars melt in your skin
for R.M
quiet nights held inside your hands like water waitingfor the chance to become your ladder.
you first reminisced, as if...
After William Carlos Williams
So much
De
Pends
Uponthe dazed chickens
Fraughtwith meltwater
Besidesthe demonic and menacing
Icecream truck
Thatcirculates the neighborhood
Withan off-key kilter tune:
(Davidsings-“ dee bee dee bee dee bee boop...
