Little Creatures
The teacher who looked ancientto her circle of first gradersleaned forward and explained
that the typical lightning bugwas simply the twinklein an angel’s eye,...
Inner Compass
Golden shovel from David Whyte’s poem “Sweet Darkness”“…anyone or anything that does not bring you alive it too small for you.”
It could rain...
DetoxIn the morning her long hair drapes like black tears over her shoulders,her Hispanic bones bruised with alcohol and sorrowso that when she says...
Middle Path, Kenyon College
I didn’t know which ones werenasturtiums until after the warmSeptember afternoon I spottedtheir round leaves with orange and yellowflowers on the...
Which is to say, I miss you
Today everyone looks familiarunder the yellow ocher, autumn light.
This woman with the child.That older man resting on a...
Winter Dream
Time ravishes the line, with glare of colorYou fashion a sky, scarring silenceMoon hoards the light
Scars of strangeLines fashioned into a druma sky...
After the Ambulance
Why can’t we break the tensionlike how your motherbroke that Waterford your father gave heron their thirty-fifth anniversary,the day her body first...
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...
Violin Plays
She holds on tight to bow and strings, yet,it is her body, curving and rounding,on inner caverns that gives musicits beginnings: Soaked in...
