Poetry

This strange dusk at noon, masking a fire that can sear our vision with its intensity, the radio warning us to shield our eyes. It is noon for you also,…

your blue linoleum shines with tears all day your fan whirls on a long stick you have nailed Truman Capote to your outhouse wall your white dress is spotted with…

“It’s rare”, my friend explains, tuberous red, brilliant against brown duff, pushing up under the green pines. I dream it’s crammed in a glass vase on the kitchen table. Scarlet…

There are things I can’t seem to hold, things always slipping from me, like messages for you, lists of errands, pens and chalk, all the broken dishes and spilled cups…

The autistic boy is blowing bubbles with his mother, shimmering orbs that glitter and dance on the face of the lawn. He prances after them, staring with the deep mirror…

Coffee sticks like syrup in my throat. I cannot let you go, my child, my love, eyes liquid as marbles. Tears hide in each cheek, about to rain. Your hand…

I’m delving down into the belly of earth, into deep loam of Mother Terra communing with earth-worms and tubers. My feet carve clay thighs move rock aside make way for…