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
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)
Angels At The Dock
My mother climbed a wooden fence in snow, called a cab so as not to disturb my father as he taught middle school math, and made it to the hospital in time for my birth, which remains an otherwise uneventful dream to her, given the gas dispensed and the ways babies were whisked away to … Continue reading Angels At The Dock
This House (day 28)
This house well made wood, brick foundation strong laid has sheltered many hearts baby tumbles, stairstep mumbles tantrums, and nail bitings, time outs and lights out, and sleep terrors, and math errors broken windows, rodent overthrows, bat wings lost wedding rings, dance steps, sprained necks this house is the falling down place, the get- back … Continue reading This House (day 28)
Duplex (day 27)
These rooms house ghosts and memory They whisper welcome, please remember me. Remembering, imperfectly, it seems Little mothers, tall fathers, the lights they burn at night Tall mothers, slighter fathers who read by candle light Hoe a garden - dream in poetry Dreaming poetry, garden tender Whose hands have shaped and shape of me. Whose … Continue reading Duplex (day 27)
Aquifer (day26)
As brackish water sputters from the ancient well pump, nut brown, then ocher, all the rusted line innards, heaving upwards, defying gravity, grows paler when blue stone opens the way, we celebrate the waters now, pouring clear, hard, clean, unconfined- And so are we this rosy morn, rising to greet the day, moving as we … Continue reading Aquifer (day26)
Aisling (day 25)
They are so high in the laddered hemlocks fairy wings torn, dressed up pirate angels unaware of my watching them, caught up in their courage & gleeful ascent. Beseech you, mother of backyards protect my daughters when I can no longer reach them. Wrap them in green and gold. Repair those wings that they may … Continue reading Aisling (day 25)
Restless (day 24)
The wind blew in this early morn like dear Persephone’s breath emerging from the dark world dank, her metaphorical death The wind blew in this Springtime day like baby’s fingers in my hair then mounting drama blew as hard as shiny trumpets blare The wind this afternoon is warm, it’s bland, like un-drunk tea a … Continue reading Restless (day 24)
On Day 23
They traipsed up a rocky mountain path. searching for summits and hot spring baths. A photographic nuptial the perfect spot? No lack of options most certainly not, but the accommodation, the food, the whole gold coin lot made them tremble chilled through next to glacial streams then pause in the process turn to practical dreams. … Continue reading On Day 23
Early Morning Poems 