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Poems

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  • Anthropocene

    Nesting, the turtle seems to be crying even though she is simply

  • Henry’s Song

    Sometimes sitting in a friend's backyard on a fall evening

  • The Last Photograph

    a golden shovel on the opening line of Gwendolyn Brooks’ “To Prisoners”

  • White Gauze Curtains

    in them we see

  • In Praise of Transformations

    Not always dramatic.  Often soundless.

  • Three poems by Nadia Mifsud translated from Maltese by Miriam Calleja

    abracadabresque this silence spreading sorrow

  • The Dragonfly

    Diamond-crusted wings flying an armored syringe

  • The Dead, At Home,

    snag on brush and low cactus.

  • How It Is

    Say how it is

  • From THIS BROKEN SYMMETRY

    Yes, Ravidat, to follow the rabbit down its winding hole

  • Heroic Register

    I imagine a bed in the middle of a room.

  • The Wayfarer

    One must turn thoughts