Concert
In the 80’s, there, in row 103, me, lighter raised, like everyone else in praise of music. But mine – […]
In the 80’s, there, in row 103, me, lighter raised, like everyone else in praise of music. But mine – […]
I cannot handle my country handling guns, aiming into the eyes of children, my neighbors, yours, ours. Where is god?
I read the news today, oh boy Read More »
AC went out, like my neighbor who everyone says “gets around.” The guys say she’s hot. The women, well, they
The world is carnivorous – poets not so much. We are grass on a suburban lawn, planted like a good
Because the matted hay blocked his wrinkled gaze, and because I am who I am, I felt the call to
Yesterday’s sunset, clouds so close to street, settling into early bedtime, red plugged into the sky, like a shorted nightlight
When day looms long, heart too small to hold it, Earth, too, pensively looking at the stars, I find it
This train wreck? Look closely. A hand reaches from the rubble. Take the trouble to reach back. Be the conductor.
And then, there are days when the world tears itself apart. Or maybe it’s just my heart. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
Living as a poet is hard. See, the teacher is always changing, not just when September comes, but every moment
On course for spring, we run into frigidity, a storefront of lingering winter. See how we crash through the front
This Monday morning, pear blossoms tumbling with the wind, white cloud grounded, blue sky clapping with one hand. Well done.
Never turn back, they say. But my back takes the stone barrage, bleeding faster than gossip, bruising like a damaged
To write poetry, you must untrain your brain, forget the rigidities of relationships. Where is the mug of Cuban coffee
All screens switch. Not momentarily – any milli-moment. Count them in fractions. One-one hundredth. Two. Dissolved into some vague animation
When in the throws of spring I remove my top in public, will you sail quickly, back towards conventional wind?
For everyone missing their mother, I offer you a memory of mine: She hugged strangers, invited the lonely to dinner
Tonight, peepers pepper the air, thick with the sauce of spring, a dinner of biscuits and decaf coffee, reverse breakfast,
No more, those morning tears. I’ve absorbed them, adoring them, like salty gods, singing them, like the rime of an
What if on Bring Your Kids to Work Day I brought my books? What if I sat them next to
Bring Your Kids to Work Day Read More »
It’s hard so hard to get specific. No one wants to wait while you try to recall words you really
Generally Speaking Read More »