Month: May 2018

the crunch of frost bare branches of the oak alive with stars      

snow its own cathedral

All night the rattle at the iron gate the color of winter

an old friend without a name fallen leaves  

my thoughts this way and that wild rabbits    

Fragment of Thought during a Panel Discussion on Contemporary Poetry Do I want to know there are anti-lyric factions, anti-narrative factions, anti-whatever…I

trying to put a number on it skipping stone    

one day at a time losing count of it  

my mother singing on my answering machine another year  

changing my mantra to a blues tune

  all the way down to low E, the trombonist’s eyebrows

in the space between falling rain and loneliness . . . the song that once was ours  

Mozart’s birthday– the slow decay of the last chord  

french lavender . . . in love with a song I don’t understand

the old blind cat listens to the birds morning brightness  

Webcam Insects land on the white umbrellas of the Queen Anne’s Lace along the trail leading to the pond. Beyond the cattails, vibrantly colored drakes gather

a lone teal circles the mallards first school day  

drive-by splash . . . the line of pre-schoolers drenched in delight

sea shells a child’s summer packed in a jar

rumors of war I pull the dandelions more gently

long drought our prayers for rain go unanswered the one cloud on the horizon mushroom-shaped and growing

shrapnel scars her fingers tracing Orion  

touching your photo the need to mouth the words