Category: Poetry

I wake up to the sound of a compact disc spinning without music. Instead of the crackle and pop of a vinyl record the player emits a soft metallic swish. The Bose alarm clock radio and…

The bridge, just there pulls dark thoughts of fearful waiting Into luminous relief. Its intently lit strength beacons into unmapped days devoured by nights of need to feel the timbre of my son’s voice.…

Across an open wheat field, harvesters are caught napping, sprawled like starfish, in billowed sleeves formal for laborers, rows of cotton folds and collars that hint at tailor’s starch. One tucks into the…

We coat ourselves in wools and downs– thin barricades against creeping cold that seeps through cracks in walls, fiber, spirit, bone. We retreat, chased by encroaching shadow. As if to mock us, the trees strip…

A small brook moves by with the sounds of the ripples in the stream echoing the bottom rocks that tie the brook to the earth and the music of nature. The bright yellow flowers move softly…

In this summer of scorch the air I taste. I smell, is flaming, smoking trees tinged with the burning rubber of pine tar.

I was taught to sit on my hands. Stop the popping of my bottle rocket limbs. And as for the bonfire cracking through my lips? Swallow it whole right now!

I can see. We all can see. What matters is not that we see but what I, and too, we see. Not with our face planted eyes, but with those of the mind.

And if I peer out from umbral shadows / to meet my gaze through the mirror’s eye