approaching eternity
the navigator is the bishop’sdaughter he said before he left us
planted in the astronomers’meadow head thrown backand eyes open to the nighti study...
Thrownness
A choice? Not one of those.And now Martin with his thrownness.I am a javelin with dangling heredity legs.Booster cables for the heart's long winter.Salamander-crawled...
Time is a surgeon
I am a spoke.Turning clockwise, notat all the wiser.Choices dig their roots intosoil without my consent but Iwater them anyway.A mossy...
Thirst, Greece
From a photo by Herbert List, 1939
A slender forearm in shadowelbow on a tablefingertips contemplating a tumbler of ouzoindex finger raised from the...
When We Were Young
Each moment was thick,pearled into droplets,
not yet thinned.The clink of dishes. The rustle
of hymnal pages turning. Dust moteshovering in a sunbeam....
The Reflection Terrace at Brookside Gardens
I am still water
I take on the color of thehedge-pine greens thegeese-moss browns thetortoise-rock grays theazalea-breeze pinks thebride-haze whites...
POULTICEWhen you have looked elsewherefor answers—the spider’s web,the empty hive, the rotted log,beneath the unturned stone—ask yourself what you haveneglected. Do not lamentthat what...
