loose harvest
In another life, I was edible
flowers. I wore a fitted baby tee
that said tubular. It came to define
me. Fingerling sounds dirty—name of a...
Sabbath I
Every moment,
in the waning sun
is christened with the possibility
of rest, with the knowledge
that another is worthy
of the green’s blessing,
with the delight of light...
From The Adirondack Chair
When young’uns (poets mostly)
say elder
They spout it
having concluded
that anyone over 39
sat a couple of rows back
from Sappho
in...
As Moon Beams Fade
The tiger prowls at night,
hunting moon beams as its prey.
Wandering apparitions sail the darkness,
searching for a place to rest.
Landing past dawn,...
Quarry
The sun looks higher here by the quarry
Daylight savings a forgotten grumblefor the sleep-deprived days of yestermonth.
The time is truly 6:49, but soon thebiddies...
Beat
An amniotic lake within meand you, floating
then the deafening silence,static nothingness where I
expected sound.
For a week I am a shipwrecknot split open on rocky...
Late in the Game
We sleep peacefully,side-by-side,except, by chance,when she or I turn outward, to the edgeof our plush and well-shaped bed.
Never inward, it would...
