Remember the spooky French Horn theme in Sergei Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf (Op. 67, a “symphonic tale for children”)? The sound of the wolf brought tears to my eyes and so of coursea few years later, I asked to play the horn. “Musician!”, the grown ups proclaimed, and so I was, finding myself lost … Continue reading Why I Am
I’m Talkin to You, Julius
Isn’t it enough you eat your sister’sfood before she gets a single bite,and you cry like a wounded bansheeand slink around all day like a kohl-eyed teenager in a phase, and rideour shoulders like Cleopatra, and hog the chaise like a recliningModigliani nude, then wretch upa hairball cocktail, and walk away like it’s nothing, leaving … Continue reading I’m Talkin to You, Julius
Delicate Things
Tiny bird skeletons shatterfrom chinks in the chimney flue. Another trapped bird struggles to find its way free from a matrix of plasterand lathe in clouds of ancient coal dustbehind an iron grate I cannot move.The cats crouch, waiting, and I too, in anxious anticipation. How long can it go on? Worse, what do I … Continue reading Delicate Things
Hunted
Out beyond night-glistening stonesdarkness at the edge of the woodswhere the ancestors toiled on landthey took, I search shadows tonightfor proof of past sins. Hunted by inherited harm and happinessHunted by evidence of ways I still try to make any thing” better” than how I find it: salt to the stew,light in the room - … Continue reading Hunted
Would I Come Back
I cannot decide. Would I come backas an elusive mushroom,living underground, inhappy connection to the dark mycelium web,only out to play hide-and-seek once a year? Would I want to livea more stubborn, determined,opportunistic life of dandelion,or the plucky life of mandolin?To be the smooth touch, the noddingcomfort of a mahogany rockingchair, already a bit close … Continue reading Would I Come Back
Sweet Woodruff
Under leaves mulched many inches thickI uncover stepping stones pressed withImprints of our children’s hands, their seaglassand shells foraged on the shores of greatlakes and warm oceans, wherewe crouched and gathered inbaskets long ago when we werelimber and sun-browned, and as yet unbothered by frailtiesto come. Their little hands bringback to life springtimes past, alongwith … Continue reading Sweet Woodruff
Before
Before the maple leaf -the seed, a treeBefore the lighthouse—lost ships, high seasBefore the airplane -a bicycle, wild birdsBefore maps -animal trails, hunches, vistasBefore a wind that kills—a breeze that stillsBefore the money- the matter of empireBefore empires – cavesBefore heroic profile imprints- handprintsBefore the made and marketed world- a steely skyBefore the coin purse … Continue reading Before
After Days of Rain
After days of rain, blue sky.Time to turn the dirtshed the shirt.Draggin’ the wagon, to therhythm of thewren again.This big dig, sunbeam dream is a bow to the bee,her humble bumbledrone, the musicof a morning.Apple blossom dappled kingdom.Robin, worm, lemon balm, thewinds got calmand for one littleminute in aworld so flawedthe peaceof this patchis a … Continue reading After Days of Rain
Tall Tale
A smoke-grey cat with long legsshowed up at our house long ago.One of many wayward strays tuckedunder the rafters of our littlebrick colonial with the pink bathroom, dusty chandeliereddining room, where childrenpracticed piano in the corner and stretched the phone cord aroundfrom the kitchen to conductthe business of adolescencefor anyone to hear. Mothertaught school then … Continue reading Tall Tale
The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Everything
The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Everything has started a movement to compel cooks to put their vegetables into boiling water as this kills them quicker than the barbarous method of putting them into the cold and letting the water come to a boil.Lewiston Evening Journal Maine, January 20,1917.A late joiner of the … Continue reading The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Everything
Early Morning Poems 