Writer. Demand Poet.
—
The choir moved like
Cattle from the pews to their
The risers, Easter morning.
Two arms raised and one intake of breath.
That morning however
A soprano stood alone at her
Bathroom mirror, pushing her
Fingers through still-warm
Grey … Read the rest “Easter Morning Undone”
—
Our girls are not
Bedrock and limestone.
Take them to the dance and
Pump them full of absinth and
They are yours. But all those
Bruises rush downhill in
An avalanche of destruction,
Coach.
Little man, you are
Pummeling … Read the rest “Three Girls”
—
I am in a kitchen in Ontario
And the house is packed in
With family and around with
Snow, and even more so by
Farmland and emptiness. It’s
March, my mother-in-law’s birthday
A day we’ve made as a holiday… Read the rest “My Father-in-Law’s Dishes”
—
Good morning, again.
I’m still breathing. I’m still
Yours and still I’m unfixed
This Thursday in the middle of
The dregs of winter. Occasionally it
Occurs to me to believe that
This will be the best we get
And … Read the rest “The Wind Still Blows”
—
Google can you spare me a
A chance encounter with
Life? I keep wandering around
Your innards, picking at
Scabs and chewing on old
Gum stuck under old
Search results somehow unable to
Recall what I came here for … Read the rest “Area Attractions”