The dark summer clouds are roaring and hanging. She dreamed again of the white-walled room that awaited the painted carpet. Spent hours...

borage tomato maracuya pepino dulce and lemon home is an island, a corner of peace, my small imperfect paradise and the city roars...

helping a friend with a bed out the door of their rental. the van parked in rain on the corner. their home like ants with a grasshopper...

Join me, my wonder, palm to palm a walk in the wind with me under palms   or pines or firs, such mercy skin to skin, a thirst holding...

There were times as a kid in the park behind the factory, across from the railroad tracks, I would hang around with friends attempting...

Tree leaves clatter on the attic and wake you up this morning, that might be fragile otherwise.   A tile rattles – not in your brain, and...

Late afternoon. Subarctic shoreline. Sun nowhere to be seen. Beneath an opaque white sky...

How do we capture experience? Trap words in a jar and seal it tight?   Words trapped in a jar and sealed up tight are muzzled, silenced...

Above, Scotch mist rises, blue, slow and creamy.  Thistle, guardian against invaders...

Do you know me? You’ve seen me now and then I perfume the air, blossoms clustered... thus

Capture for me in vivid and moving verse The essence of a summer day, distilled Down to the happiness in a honeybee’s dance. Sing for me...

In twilight's grasp, the oak stands tall and proud,  Its branches whisper secrets to the breeze... 

Silver moon glows, whispers...

His feet touch earth, and the soil recalls his heft, every step a soft murmur of unwilling return. The sky unmoved...

living with devils

Mown hay to the sun after rain. Otherwise you’ll find it in the middle leaves of bales, the mold that sickens them, that cures them. The...

I did not like to be held as a child trapped in my mother's lap. Her arms constricting, every fidget of my body. Nowhere for my head to...

“Unhand her, vagabond,” was my one line  in the school play. I had the part of the cop,  a minor role compared to Beth Levine’s,  the...

High above Locarno’s port with outside eyes to east at  midnight: fires of the skies  come speak to me in staccato  forks flashed seconds...

Porch light haloed  in moths, house leaking into the night.  Inside, my father drinks, dark rum cleaving memory from throat,  I take it...