Sail
When in the throws of spring I remove my top in public, will you sail quickly, back towards conventional wind? […]
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
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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 »
Each March, I fall for it, the siren sun wading through blue to the abandoned crow’s nest over my house,
We did not spring forward – we looked there, all the while wondering whether approaching snow would march us back
Past eleven. Were it morning, it might not matter, but night’s a story that should have ended an hour ago,
I got on a list, blown kisses by mega-marketers with a fetish for…construction? Aluminum piping, seamless gutters, steam rollers, ice
I submitted because I saw ‘defenestration’ in a WWII detective novel, and had to look it up. The same day
Now more than then, #Facebook needs #poetry, and art of the masters and royal ladies who dare to dabble on
This cannot be my America. Where bloated power stuffs rags in the mouths of servants, weakened because some bastards removed
If I were a comma, would I opt for Oxford use? Would I find AP an ignorant Yahoo, mucking around
When I look up, I see the wall in front of me, mirrored butterflies my daughter bought me, pressed against
Someone on Facebook said, “Bless and release.” I penned it on paper, a post-it note, purple, stamped with a teal
Shifting paper, old handouts, a stack of dog-eared folders, blank, brittle notebooks, pile of unread mail and must-smelling memories, just
I was so jealous of you. You were that collectable champagne glass in my mirrored curio – gold-rimmed, slender stemmed,
When the day weighs more than I, and the sky hangs ominous as a loose chandelier, I find time to
I used to dream my teeth fell out. I’d look down, and there, in a blue bucket, they sat, piled,
Remember back – not too far back. Goalies didn’t wear masks. Bikers didn’t wear helmets. We rode in the back