Flinch finally, the moths have left for the mountains. I watch horses being led from a fire. I feel made of driftwood.
browsing archive: poetry
Mother Goose Revisited At the corner of the bricked-in lane, / she speaks to us through a vine-covered fence / in the
In Case of Drought Call for spring. Conjure winter’s end. Bandage limbs cracked or stunted by wind or worry. Pray for bees,
What Comes Next Phoenix, Arizona: it’s January and it’s 65 degrees. He brings me a mug of warm coffee with just the
Svalbard Missive You make me grateful even a brook can have its favorite basin. I always say this time of year –
When You Asked Me To Tell You What Doesn’t Make Me Sad Deployment Day 145 Redbuds. Garlic scapes. Toothwort belled up
Whale Shark Spots are like human fingerprints, and the plankton whorl in our palms while your mouth sieves the sea. Our backs
Tongue-Lick of Flame It’s been a hard summer, one long exhalation into the pout of heat, the backhand of drought owing its
Sevenfold Goodbye 1 Ponca We left sea level this morning, headed north on a highway gradually climbing. Now, on the brink of