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Poems

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  • OVER THE MOON

    Five a.m.—the soft percussion of the rain

  • Imperial Crimson

    There is no way I can write ‘producing meanings’ as my job in the CV,

  • Angles | Bad News

    The master speaks to a tree.

  • Snake Church and Patience, with Bees

    I’m Reverend Brody Coots

  • Untitled

    But here in the city there are signs and crowds in the street

  • Pierantonio on Being Married to Artemisia Gentileschi the Night She Dances the Ballet: War of Beauty War of Love, 1612

    You broke through a bouquet

  • Open Book: 100 Secrets

    1. I was self-conscious that I looked like crap in the hospital as I sucked on ice chips sans lipstick.

  • Resumé

    Families shame you;

  • YAWP

    I long to move closer

  • Two Poems

    The sky spills a certain sadness after sunset,

  • SUNDAY LUNCH AT MOM’S COUSIN DINNIE’S: JUNE 1969 | “ELEGANT,” SHE SAID

    I hadn't yet recovered from a concussive first year teaching ninth-grade English

  • The Sun Pours Forth & An American in Paris

    We are in a garden among friends