We rose with the sun, ate a honey bun for the fair morning was a beckoning one and the purple fields and greening leaves ‘gainst a great blue sky above Yo Ho the open road Cups a-brim with our cups-a Joe Hi Ho press the pedal low Where the center line don’t show Road up … Continue reading Road Trip Shanty
Sonnet Seeking Sun
When I consider darker days I’m tempted sore against the light My Quaker forebearers clear of sight Might shake their heads, avert their gaze There is such sin as slothful laze Of inner gifts that languish while Powers that be ingest their bile a sad refrain, our wretched ways are amplified against the dark and … Continue reading Sonnet Seeking Sun
Saturday Poem
Saturdays are promises to myself I cannot keep. The barge in my backyard carries coal and candy. Spring violet sweetflower scents the air as your tears, audible over the airwaves, show a dreadful face of grief. We’ll meet somewhere in the middle of the week, Kate, and I’ll hoist Cleveland and all your homeless children … Continue reading Saturday Poem
Make Of It
Life, word-glazed, what-knot, and blind-note, we cry in our houses, eat bread, and go on. With arms outstretched we sleepwalk, stealing light in our white night shirts. In the middle of forgetting we remember oddly, small dream snips, other selves abandoned. Between wake and sleep we are sailing with limbs and lips wide open, braced … Continue reading Make Of It
O Holy Night
We mustn’t laugh. O Holy Night, when year after year the unholy octave looms, then tanks as a warbling soloist, who has only just rushed to the church after setting out soup and Christmas Eve charcuterie, with a long night of wrapping still ahead, straightens her robe smooths her hair, steps forward with the organist … Continue reading O Holy Night
Triolet For Clearing
These heaps of trinket memories Your bracelets, blushers, long delayed Tossed away in waves and flurries Rooms of trinket memories I move around in waves and flurries These lettings go so long delayed No end of trinket memories Your girl life earrings well arrayed
after lucille
i am fleeing an old year and the new year hovers like a gathering storm that puts fire to my feet like lightening like all my wild dreams make easier to imagine myself not-yet-self at sixtyfive and seventyfive and seventysix even eightyplus so i am fleeing an old year and i hope what i love … Continue reading after lucille
Underground
morning gauze hides what wants to stay hidden debris of a mother’s memory footsteps of dead fathers a seed in the forest fragrance of love astonishing blend of our killing stockpiles essential flavors travel the underground keep us alive
The Visible To Be; The Story of Hand Reading
web of secrets between pink mounds love’s cavernous criss cross life in the lines beginnings endings on the lip of every precipice outward signs tell a story we cannot trace all the way back to baby hands that reached for a face this river after storm takes what we cherish forward seaward our hands scarred … Continue reading The Visible To Be; The Story of Hand Reading
Cento (April 30)
Where shall I climb, sound, seek, search, or find Further in summer than the birds In darkness and amid the many shapes Angels of rain and lightening The voice I hear this passing night was heard Said, yearn upward The whistle of the wind, it is not my voice The fly buzz, the stillness between … Continue reading Cento (April 30)
Early Morning Poems 