Category Archives: Poetry

Correction

There’s 15 gone, the news reporter said, and I intoned the numbers to my son: 12 students and a teacher stricken dead and too the pair that brought the bomb and gun. But he corrected me – my teenage sage … Continue reading →

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My Stepdaughter’s Barrette

Exchanging Mondays off to have each day some extra time at home, to exercise or write or follow where my fancies lay, today I chose to vacuum. The surprise, discovered where it wedged at least nine years beneath a baseboard … Continue reading →

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Baker

Within the leaf, the gas and water take their measure of the vigor of the sun to spark a sweet reaction, as they make the basic sustenance for everyone. The chemistry is almost that profound when I mix flour, milled … Continue reading →

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Art Car

A shark-shaped silver car stands out, on Spruce near Berryman. Its surface is hand-done: a pitted, puckered, puttied poor excuse for shining sharkskin. Still the car is fun; it rides a trailer hitched behind a bull with radiator ring and … Continue reading →

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Secrets

Big Robin is a deviant. I know because she tried recruiting me, between her messy bites of lunch: she loves to go to latex orgies. Then there’s meek Christine, who never eats with others – she’s complex. She closet binges … Continue reading →

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Eddie

I see in memory a red-haired guy who studied Marxist writings page by page, and dreamed of blowing ROT-Cee to the sky: now Eddie’s hair is turning pink with age. While McNamara wasted boys to slow the tide embarrassment from … Continue reading →

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NightQuiet

It’s 25 past midnight, and the earth is quiet now while I prepare to sleep. As if fatigued from having given birth to yet another yesterday, we creep together to our rest, environment and I, arrange our wraps of fog … Continue reading →

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Neighborhood Pick-Up Day

My legs are tired and my mind’s fatigued. I need a psychic nap and muscle rest. Commuting I have tried to be intrigued with birds and blooms; instead I am impressed by household offal piled at the street: torn mattresses, … Continue reading →

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Alien

She’s always been an alien within: a cuckoo incubated in the nest her parents built. Beneath that olive skin exists a creature other than the rest, diverging early in her history. She’s waiting yet to recognize her peers and thinks … Continue reading →

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Venus, On Cupid Grown

An eddy of belligerence within a lake of love – that’s how my joy arose: my offspring sprung from me, with satin skin and silken curls and grace that only grows in him more potent with each passing year. From … Continue reading →

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