Writer. Demand Poet.
—
I’ve never been so
Unsettled on the
Way out. Something about the
Leaving this time makes
Me want prance on a
Trampoline– up and down
Get moving but go
Nowhere. All the lately
Scurrying hasn’t been to
Stuff away … Read the rest “On the Way Out”
—
I heard a drop of rain
On that rhododendron call to me:
You are alive.
This minute, and only this one.
You may grouse at yesterday or
Pine for tomorrow but only the
Perfume of now exists. You … Read the rest “You are Alive”
—
We are always eavesdropping.
The boy in the next yard admits
He forgot to do his work, and the ladies who
Race by walking exchange their bodily failures
Like measurements of sifted flour.
I hear you, little bird hiding … Read the rest “Eavesdropping.”
—
Before JD left, last time, to go back
To Kansas City, he and Colin
Agreed that moving the laundry
From the basement to its new
(Though not finished) room
On the 2nd floor, was the most
Important last and … Read the rest “The Two Men”
—
The rip down the hip
Of these jeans makes me suddenly feel
I don’t have enough.
It’s because the two new pairs I
Bought last month have somehow ended up
In the laundry at the same time
Which, if … Read the rest “Ripped Fabric”