Survival Instinct
And in the shadow of yesterday,
Katherine’s Coffeehouse
Ever have a morning
Ever have a morning where everything
seems to bother you? Where coffee filters
conjoin like slurwords, and not even your longest thumbnail
can separate what has become what?
Ever have a morning Read More »
Meditation on a feather in the vase on my windowsill
I’m looking at the details.
The smaller picture.
Minutia of goose plume,
Meditation on a feather in the vase on my windowsill Read More »
What I’m not thinking about
What I’m not thinking about is the lawn mower,
What I’m not thinking about Read More »
Micro for Dolly
they tell me my dog has rare lymphoma.she lies on the bed in my office,listens to cello music. sheloves the
Because Everything is Metaphor
I am watching my farm dog
limp and
trip
on stairs,
Because Everything is Metaphor Read More »
Alt Serenity Prayer
I am working on being more intentional, directlyasking the day’s nimbus for its vascular biceps,afternoon for its ability—no, serenity—to sleep
Alt Serenity Prayer Read More »
Because I Have Four Tattoos and Want More
Everyone has a tattoo—
or two, or three,
skin and bank the limit.
Because I Have Four Tattoos and Want More Read More »
This Is My Postcard to Me and You
This is my postcard to me and you.
You are good. Not just
good enough. Not okay,
This Is My Postcard to Me and You Read More »
We are not immortal, and neither is this poem
After a while,I am tired of trees.Not the woody-armed entity,bigmouthed and knotty nosed,that watches over our home.Not the longstanding gatheringof
We are not immortal, and neither is this poem Read More »
My homeland speaks in tongues
My homeland speaks
in tongues. Gone too far
to roll back vein and gristle.
My homeland speaks in tongues Read More »
Day Seven, October 1st
Day seven,
warm rains still come,
speckled deer restless
and asking to nurse,
Day Seven, October 1st Read More »
Clippings (a draft)
We hadn’t known she could scream.
Glass shattering wail
through slats of a muzzle,
two techs holding her down,
Clippings (a draft) Read More »
Twenty Something Years Later, And I’m Still Thinking About It
I stumble into it, on it,
living room jumbled,
Lego under my foot—
dark because someone
actually turned off the lights.
Twenty Something Years Later, And I’m Still Thinking About It Read More »
