Cloud Cover
Yesterday’s sunset, clouds so close to street, settling into early bedtime, red plugged into the sky, like a shorted nightlight […]
Promise
When day looms long, heart too small to hold it, Earth, too, pensively looking at the stars, I find it
Conductor
This train wreck? Look closely. A hand reaches from the rubble. Take the trouble to reach back. Be the conductor.
There Are Days
And then, there are days when the world tears itself apart. Or maybe it’s just my heart. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
Good Night
See how time moves, slinking along like some aging cat, shoulders hunched against the moon, a silhouette of fur and
Teacher
Living as a poet is hard. See, the teacher is always changing, not just when September comes, but every moment
Heading Up
Do we all get where we’re headed? I’d like to believe I do. I’ve held a cold hand or two,
New Book Coming
It’s hard to believe only last year Bury My Under a Lilac was released, and I’m already ready to release
In Store
On course for spring, we run into frigidity, a storefront of lingering winter. See how we crash through the front
Monday Unhanded
This Monday morning, pear blossoms tumbling with the wind, white cloud grounded, blue sky clapping with one hand. Well done.
Passage
Never turn back, they say. But my back takes the stone barrage, bleeding faster than gossip, bruising like a damaged
Cubano
To write poetry, you must untrain your brain, forget the rigidities of relationships. Where is the mug of Cuban coffee
Monitor
All screens switch. Not momentarily – any milli-moment. Count them in fractions. One-one hundredth. Two. Dissolved into some vague animation
Sail
When in the throws of spring I remove my top in public, will you sail quickly, back towards conventional wind?
Now Untitled
For everyone missing their mother, I offer you a memory of mine: She hugged strangers, invited the lonely to dinner
NOVA Spring
Tonight, peepers pepper the air, thick with the sauce of spring, a dinner of biscuits and decaf coffee, reverse breakfast,
April Again
No more, those morning tears. I’ve absorbed them, adoring them, like salty gods, singing them, like the rime of an
Bring Your Kids to Work Day
What if on Bring Your Kids to Work Day I brought my books? What if I sat them next to
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Generally Speaking
It’s hard so hard to get specific. No one wants to wait while you try to recall words you really
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Pirate Life
Each March, I fall for it, the siren sun wading through blue to the abandoned crow’s nest over my house,
Un-sneak Attack
Fear doesn’t bother to sneak in. It lunges, with a screech, arms spread like wild wings, fingers grotesque talons of