the crunch of frost
bare branches of the oak
alive with stars
Month: May 2018
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