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Poems

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  • Bookish | Brush Your Fingers Through Your Hair, Why Don’t You?

    The bookishness that

  • Last Day in Coldwater

    Our phone died due to lack

  • Bodies on the Margins

    The artist understands blood; or rather

  • Poem in the Old Style

    At the beginning of the play Hecuba was mourning her great losses. She made lists, blamed the Gods: they could

  • SAY

    Says her Tarot reader says

  • Wolf Wine Bar

    Two years ago, maybe even two and a half

  • Another Argument with Jim About the Soul

    You say I’d know it exists if

  • What is Unknown

    When I tell her I’ve fallen for What Is Unknown, my mother’s face brightens.  “She’ll be a good girlfriend for you,”

  • Five Poems

    His Dublin sister, two sons,

  • Sometimes,

    I’ll crumple the paper before beginning to write

  • Two Poems

    Where does it live?

  • After the Fire Items # 6-10, Living Room

    Mom said ‘Take them for the gold & don’t pay off my credit card debt,