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Poems

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  • Seven Minutes with Afaa Weaver and Nancy Mitchell

    Were it not for his silver hair

  • CONCRETE

    Entry was easy

  • 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

  • Tampa at 8PM, Listening to a Podcast on Bird Migration

    Woodlawn Cemetery lies shadowed beneath violet-bellied clouds

  • Invitation to the Dance and Pieces of us Keep Breaking Off

    In the summer of 1949, Jacques d’Amboise found himself in a clash with a bully

  • Before Summer Rain

    Then, out of the green of the grove,

  • The Orders of the Ordinary

    Death seemed no more

  • Two Poems

    My old man praised himself for not being

  • Mishap

    At the soiree, a hot ticket zooms off with a hot potato into the toy

  • Near the Sea

    All manner of birds love this windbreak hedge

  • On Sadness | On Beauty

    I noticed something strange and beautiful about the word “sad.”

  • Excerpts from Little Goldie in America

    One more day, one more hour, play the good pig.