Category: Poetry

The mother of all storms is upon us. We are taken aback, our skirts blow up. We show our panties, bad girls all of us, march off to school with our lunch boxes open. Do you want my apple? Do you want my pear? See all the fruit for the taking, piled hig … Continue Reading

A poem tells the heart: it must be true— unless perception is a lie and all considered feeling false; unless we err by saying, steal the essence of the said or bury it among the speechless dead. If by my lines I mean to raise, to stir awake, to show, i … Continue Reading

            In conversation with Rilke and Ocean Vuong What if getting old is traveling backward, regaining your first eyes, your portion of blood and bone no longer scaled with wound. Suppose you awake without your skin, all your senses felled by slee … Continue Reading

Stormy night: a pallid ant clings to slick fibers of a wind-flayed string. Too dumb to hope, too keen to despair, it pauses mid-string to interrogate the air with antennae restless with autonomy that try to amplify the ant’s economy of movement with el … Continue Reading

He is reaching around her – claw foot tub, oceanography. I could say islands, but instead – weigh stations, always this or that, always weather. She is wondering what it might be like to take a class at the University, what might have been the ending t … Continue Reading

The morning sulks with impending rain, held off for a moment when the sun bursts through— star-shell of anxious illumination. Here is that line of French infantry, their bayonets the bristles of unshaved chins, their eyes drawn, but of course, to your … Continue Reading