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,...
Modern Prometheus
“I doubted at first whether I should attempt the creation of a being like myself, or one of simpler organization; but my imagination...
Plyzhnik’s Farewell
When a kiss is more than goodbyeto coffee and the office morningthe tender parting of husband and wife,when the cell that awaits youcalls...
Tyrant-Poem
IWe will shake our bodies like animals abandoned in the forest,and the moon will sing lullabies for thedead;the dead who were mine and did...
