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Poems

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  • Focus

    The point at which

  • Three Poems

    Typos   Word instead of wood but, sodden, it smoked when it burned. I wrote god for good who was, once–– in my childhood years, crowned with the nimbus of that capital G–– but now tends to be a placeholder for nightmare, tears. Seeking solace in the pastoral, but grove came out as grave and the lymph nodes, irradiated, naked

  • Amaryllis

    Like the bell of an old Victrola,

  • Cataclysmic Paternity

    There’s the you at birth and the you that’s taught and the you you concocted.

  • Ars Poetica Über Prompt (Not the Taxi Service)

    Take the worst poem you’ve ever written but that you haven’t

  • Before Summer Rain

    Then, out of the green of the grove,

  • A Brief Portfolio

    Faces pass by like unheard explanations

  • Mirror of the Invisible World

    The crown of a milk tooth in a curve of jaw

  • Redeye | The Window’s Water

    that never sets,

  • Tails | On the Other Side

    When our tails fell off, we had nothing to wag or wave behind us, nothing to curl up or

  • Rats

    Sudden underfoot, this one cries back

  • Pet of the Week

    Oh, Salsa, I too