Category Archives: Poetry

I hurried through my babies’ infancies and hustled past their toddlerhoods and youths. I raced from work to childcare, my knees supporting more than me – the daily truths were lists of jobs I hurried to have done. I cried … Continue reading →

Infinity is tough to comprehend until it’s set against its opposite. Imagining a universal end instead is weirdly inappropriate and fell abrupt. If space and time can be immense, but somehow finite in their size, then what’s beyond that distant … Continue reading →

They must have once supported massive weight, but now they rust a ribcage in the air: the 17 old I-beams twisting straight up to a road no longer hanging there. Like dominos they stand – a rusting line no finger … Continue reading →

I woke to see tigridias outside my bedroom door: two perfect painted flowers. They bent beneath the heat and would have died, except I took them in to cup the hours of a Saturday in late July. It didn’t matter … Continue reading →

My father carved a walking stick for me. He chose a sturdy branch and trimmed it free of shoots and then he whittled carefully my name and figures of geometry. They sat the summer afternoons away, two fathers tall and … Continue reading →

Abnormal cells divide and reproduce, and replicate again without an end. They multiply amok in mad abuse mitotic and chaotic, and so bend ideas of potent immortality, they take the twisted shape appropriate to teeming crowded cruel calamity, like maggots … Continue reading →

I fell in love at 2:05 PM just yesterday – aware you shut the door, my belly heating and from nowhere phlegm between my voice and air. My thoughts implore you to approach, to cover me, surround my limbs, insist … Continue reading →

Our state put subdivision on the map, invented traffic arteries, suburbs, redesignated dead end cul-de-sac and made the freeways frequent. It disturbs the symmetry – our huge diversity a manatee that tips a dish of prawns that cluster near Long … Continue reading →

Disposed to loving comfort as we age, we rush from work to kitchen, bed or bath, as if a foot massage could manage rage, as if a DVD could blanket wrath. We snooze commute with earphones or we drive with … Continue reading →