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Poems

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  • mother of stains

    a mother made of three buttons from three different sweaters

  • Last Day in Coldwater

    Our phone died due to lack

  • grief being a swatch of blue & grief being that song from childhood & grief being a pitched tent

    a rectangle in an unborn son’s room

  • Invocation

    I would like beamed to me from the Muse's tower high atop Parnassus

  • Apologetics

    A host of angels or a compass of cherubim

  • The Lord Is a Man of War | Far Desert Region | The Day-Shift Sleeps, | [Does the war want

    The Lord is a man of war

  • Wozzeck | Casualty

    Even the toneless whisper finds its cradle, its home,

  • Fret Not

    Opening the door for the first time since

  • Blues

    Why is there careful language

  • Three Poems

    My fingers grow white with winter, blood

  • The Beginner

    Doesn’t have a clue, sips whiskey in a train

  • From the grab bag of desire

    I keep meaning to walk up to you,