Category Archives: Poetry

The air this morning sparkles now the storm has passed, that left a wake of weather here as clean as cloud, as still as fog, as warm as western dusk. Another racing year surrounds a life today and starts a … Continue reading →

I lately get the luxury of black and white instead of teasing tones in gray. I’ve too much on my plate – I see a stack of jobs, but there’s a path as clear as day: I have to move … Continue reading →

For what is it assumed when I stay home I do not work, who’s known for working hard? And why when I report I wrote a poem, do many dread the jingle of a card? How came the custom to … Continue reading →

My path of least resistance is of late a freeway to romantic fantasy. Imagining the way we’ll punctuate this talk is irresistible to me. Continuing our dialogue in mind the while I walk or work or rest or rush, I … Continue reading →

I start to learn the length and breadth of you, and every day I like a little more the message in your deep caress, and through your stroke a stretch I haven’t known before. You hold my neck with fingers … Continue reading →

Self-medication is the course for me to lever out of this reverse plateau of dismal mood, abysmal density, of slogging in an attitude so low or lonely I don’t even know what’s worse: a dearth of all excitement, silent, skewed; … Continue reading →

With purple mint the gardener conversed, while students had an Easter break from school. He dug a hole on March the 31st and called himself an aging April fool. He stuck bromeliads in rotting wood and traced the snaking irrigation … Continue reading →

We talk to babies with a curling tongue and rounded lips; we teach them fairy tales, corral them in a chorus when they’re young and try for something every parent fails to get: the power to control their taste. Asserting … Continue reading →

I lost my voice. I left it on the plane last week or in a hotel meeting room three levels underground. The weekend rain orated hail on windows, thunder’s boom — while I resolved to silence stayed within. I wrapped … Continue reading →

As often as I’ve gushed about this place, Lip-synching rapture into metaphor, Like foggy morning breeze against my face, Less startled than refreshed, and begging more, I’ve never caught in words the atmosphere Nor sung the sun in seasonal degrees … Continue reading →