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Poems

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  • NOTES ON SILENCE

    The racket of birdsong wakes me at 4am, before first light.

  • Notes on Desire

    Archytas of Tarentum said the most fatal curse

  • Notes on an Illness in Spain & the grist of gratitude is like ingratitude

    The sinuous ripple of a well-broken in fan, a soft hand

  • Notes on a 39-Year-Old Body

    Most internal organs jiggle and glow and are rosy

  • Notes From Sick Rooms

    Who really wants to be a caregiver?

  • Note to Thomas Stearns Eliot

    I just dared to eat

  • Not the Way it Was

    Today I overheard a conversation

  • Not Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

    Promises to keep, was a lie, he had nothing. Through

  • NOT ALL SKELETONS ARE MUSEUM QUALITY

    Under a sky as hazy-blue-polluted

  • Norumbega Park

    They used to say the name was Viking

  • Nocturne

    Last night a barred owl swept across the road,

  • No use

    On October 21, 1962, Sylvia Plath wrote one poem that became two.