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...

WITH ME AND THE STARS No one can tie down the stars in one place, my father said as he explained how the summer constellations were different from...

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,...

So Much was Possible Then— ...

A Good Deal I don't like empty vases populating my tiny house but after uploading my listing of the car I came across a blue Ming vase. Not...

Raised architecture of gold leaf Time-gone smoke darkened the possible reflection. Museum light shadows continue to tweak the narrative. Gold demands candlelight. Or maybe candlelight demands...

I’m from potholes in the bóithrín road limestone walls whitethorn bushes aged fields and mossy stones drip-drip hedges before a blue farm gate apples rotting under...

Dry Splash All these years we’ve been worried about the sea levels rising, when what we should have paid attention to was the fresh water levels falling. Long-forgotten riverbeds...

In Love with Blue Blue is my favorite color. My car is blue—bright highlighter blue, easy to find in a parking lot. My front door is blue—a...

Abortion Sonnet When I have fears that I may cease to be before my pen can punctuate the brains of all those smug-ass pricks who only see the...