The mermaid by the canal is crying. These cobblestones, they’re a hazard, my clogs have yetto break in, so my feethurt. All I want is to sip kaffe with you, watch the rain drip down the windows, lean acrossour warm little table to wipe thecroissant crumb from your cheek. Come back. Come back.
Ah Grief
Ah griefsaid my friendmy mother’s scuffed black shoeson the back seatwhen I made my wayfrom the hospitalwithout herTo know griefsaid the windis to rattle windowpanestrouble the puddlesof every loss shakethe raftersof your heartKnowing griefsaid the teacupis to spill bitternessand compassionread the leaveswear the stainlike a tattoo…after Alicia Ostriker’s The Blessing of The Old Woman, The … Continue reading Ah Grief
Stranger Things
Uncle Joe had a photographic memory. Things like birth and death dates hung like jewels on the many-branched family tree he tended. In random conversation with those among us still living, people and their dates were important to him as were their places. His mind held a map of world facts & histories, wars … Continue reading Stranger Things
Sleeping Dog
Orange cat stripes blur a narrow staircase, her turtle-backed sister close behind, far from sluggish, up and down they run a gauntlet of buzzing flies, knock into shut doors, disappear from view but never out of earshot. Up and down one staircase, becoming many steps and more steps, more doors, a winding labyrinth of ups … Continue reading Sleeping Dog
Platonic
Your voice on the page rides ethers strong familiar comforting dear old friend I cherish memory our alleyway bicycle adventures back porch story telling the ache as your family drove down a street I thought meant goodbye Ohio forever. But here’s a photo 50 years hence hip to hip wild-haired on your Napa hillside or … Continue reading Platonic
Housekeeping: a book forgotten now remembered
Forest dark moss covered rooted & Vined newspapers piled wet smell the lake maybe a bleached skull or maybe the name of a town Fingerbone battered walking boots sagging porch orphaned girls The mystery of Sylvie her Solitude her wandering her train trestle traipse her cardboard closet the eternal question stay or move on I … Continue reading Housekeeping: a book forgotten now remembered
On The Other Hand
I question the form of my blooming in a slow growth season. It’s not that I don’t seek a little running sap in life anymore, change, another miracle of 3-day resurrection, re-planting in the soil of my circumstances. It’s not that I’m anywhere near worn & worried to the bone, quite the opposite, in fact. … Continue reading On The Other Hand
Peanut Butter Toast
1. You come back around to it, a simple pleasure. Peanut Butter on toast, made with your own two hands. No, you did not grind the nuts, or the wheat for bread, but you learned later in life how to make a lazy sourdough loaf. The toast, well it elevates things. Keep it simple. Eat … Continue reading Peanut Butter Toast
Unnamed
My oldest daughter shared a dream once in which she met an older sister and felt herself displaced and downhearted. She’d known for years there were others before. Her dream made me weep all over again for the unnamed unborn. We pulled 5 kittens from an oil drum in the barn today, their yellow mother … Continue reading Unnamed
We of Many Weathers
Our complex geography of stone arches crossing caverns of quiet (broken sharply by the morning crunch of cereal, clang of spoon on bowl), my heart twangs, it sometimes tears in the We of many weathers. An old house holds us in slanting light, two more in the heritage line of straight-faced lovers side-by-side at the … Continue reading We of Many Weathers
Early Morning Poems 