loose harvest
In another life, I was edible
flowers. I wore a fitted baby tee
that said tubular. It came to define
me. Fingerling sounds dirty—name of a...
Sabbath I
Every moment,
in the waning sun
is christened with the possibility
of rest, with the knowledge
that another is worthy
of the green’s blessing,
with the delight of light...
From The Adirondack Chair
When young’uns (poets mostly)
say elder
They spout it
having concluded
that anyone over 39
sat a couple of rows back
from Sappho
in...
As Moon Beams Fade
The tiger prowls at night,
hunting moon beams as its prey.
Wandering apparitions sail the darkness,
searching for a place to rest.
Landing past dawn,...
loose harvest
In another life, I was edible
flowers. I wore a fitted baby tee
that said tubular. It came to define
me. Fingerling sounds dirty—name of a...
Eulogyafter a song by Tool
If I can’t cry for you, how can I cryfor myself? Someday, they’ll find you,lightning burned tongue, wings long pawned,liver...
Preserves
I have an urge to preservetoday, boil the remaining fruitsto their sticky sugars, remove
the pits and seeds, smash fleshadd pectin and lemon juice, pourand...
