In Teresa’s Orchard Only two trees remain in the old apple orchard but buckets & sieves, a press, wooden pestle mashers, evidence of bygone industry nearby You cannot imagine your Victorian Grandmother would have tolerated much hooch for the household. But maybe. Who knows? Winesaps, pippins, northern spy, the trees Were there before the people … Continue reading April 24 In Teresa’s Orchard
April 23 Q
Odd little curly-Q with its hook, its running leg torn fingernail Jewelry clasp Eyelash letter of nobility and outcasts oddkins and originals 10 point Scrabbler # 17 threads the eye of the needle wags its tail a friend of U K’s cousin jewel in the crown Mistress of all Questions.
April 22 Hanging Noodles
Jenni said she was broke as a dog’s hind leg so we met up at my place & I supplied a bottle of wine and the facial masks --a French green clay to absorb all the toxicity accumulating in our young blood. Add in a splash of another substance or two and the night became … Continue reading April 22 Hanging Noodles
April 21 Found in Translation
(excerpt from Estonian poet Hasso Krull) Öö on täis auke. Need vilguvad, plingivad, helgivad, aknad öös ja aknad taevas, olemise aknad ja aknad ilma olemise vajaduseta. Seisame trepil ja teeme suitsu. Sigaretitäpid on liikuvad aknad, liikuvad augud, ilma leegita tuli ja meil on vaja siin trepil olla. Found in Translation Oh this awakening, so good … Continue reading April 21 Found in Translation
April 20 Hand Made
Most everywhere my eye lands Most rooms in my house I see something someone’s hands Made that makes me smile. My daughter’s high school Art class stained glass, Mia’s Yin Yang in pinks and blues. Joan’s quilts for every season Riotous Amish geometries, & the Pen & Ink drawings from other homes, Scottish Highland trees … Continue reading April 20 Hand Made
(day 6)Crucifixion -Hell Harp
As a boy I sat on the corner near the old town men with Lute and Lyre. Their sad songs filled my throat, and from my toes to my eyes I swam invisible waters rippling in space from the sound of fingertips on gutwire. Many a time I thought I could die there, in the … Continue reading (day 6)Crucifixion -Hell Harp
Night Shift at the Observatory
A bubbly stench murmurs the cryovolcano Say Al, you can almost hear that smell. All the way from Saturn? get real. Just go ahead and mash the buttons, Stuart, This gal is going off the clock in two hours. If you’d just turn on the radio, we might not be so bored, but put your … Continue reading Night Shift at the Observatory
Spider in the Blueberries
I pull berries from the shelf. Sleepy waves of guilt waft, as I notice too much plastic packaging stacking up in the fridge “and blueberries are supposed to help us remember” I think. The struggle to pry open the edges is real- my fingers are dull instruments this early in the morning and the berry … Continue reading Spider in the Blueberries
April 3 Word Play
I note a dryness to my cough Rejection of the stroganoff This unkind light, is harsh, fluorescent This atmosphere is dull, depressant The music on the stand is Liszt Unpracticed now for months-dismissed Instead, a strident radio The television’s blue-light glow We shouldn’t stay, we mustn’t linger Can’t help but flash a middle finger Another … Continue reading April 3 Word Play
Indiana 44
One maybe more maybe four on Indiana 44 you hunt for what rises -rusting in the fields Mark the miles that way to pass time Headed east you slow behind a hog truck then pass that shack at Flat Rock his rebel flag makes you rattle like quarry stone under the wheels her blue garden … Continue reading Indiana 44
Early Morning Poems 