Like Yesterday
This morning,
of all the mornings,
the moon woke me.
I followed the light
CT Silver and Gold
The river slides a silver seam through town.
Bank-side blooms lift their faces to its crown.
Spring threads a thin, shy gold along the ledge.
Petals spill like small, bright coins upon the silted edge.
You
You-
pulling confetti from ordinary mornings,
and your laugh that can rearrange the furniture of my day.
You-
turn long roads into alleyways of stories-
Measured Light
Affection,
like tinder,
kindles quickly.
Left free,
Broken Only By
I walk out to the weekends’
night sounds.
Mostly stale stillness
broken only by
Whereabouts
Lost by design, or by a paper crease?
You folded south into a new direction—
a river swallowed the road’s thin voice,
The compass shrugged and chose the wrong horizon.
The Oblation of My Existence
The oblation of my existence-
A mother who languished to love me
A sordid paternal story
My providence-
Not Fit For Purpose
Not Fit for Purpose
A poet writes her name
on the back of a breeze,
Friday Night Parade Rains
Remind me-
of Friday night parade rains
or antique engines’ stutter.
Describe how-
the air hangs with roasted beef, fried dough, and the stale yeastiness of the beer pit.
Friday Night Parade Rains
Remind me-
of Friday night parade rains
or antique engines’ stutter.
Describe how-
the air hangs with roasted beef, fried dough, and the stale yeastiness of the beer pit.
Some Time
Some time,
I am still that small child,
playing in my room,
creating a life where the dog never dies.
Where everything stays just as it should.
Restless
Restless?
No, I need to rest more
In these wee hours of this morn
If I was a betting girl, boy,
I’d say we should
Restless
Restles?
No, I need to rest more
In these wee hours of this morn
If I was a betting girl, boy,
I’d say we should
I Lean Into Language
I lean into language
like a storm-struck tree
in our woods.
Limbs fall
to the fern floor as
Zone 6a
Bent backs
Soil stained knees
Direct seeding
Hope
Little You
Little You
needed space
and a fair amount of grace
to take those
Big Ideas
Amour d’été
Je t’aime une rose
En l'été
Avec la chaleur.
Mais rien ne se compare à
Le chaleur
A Stiff Word
A Stiff Word
Poems
take the most raw words,
kink them just so
My Meadow is a Memory
My meadow is a memory
caught between moon rises and
the chorus of peepers.
Fuzzy at first,
I close my eyes
Pump Pump Pump
Pump pump pump
Nothing.
Pump pump pump
Nothing.
Crumpled metal was one option
ETA
When you knew me,
I reached for the sun.
I contorted
this way and that
to find warmth.
Symbiosis (An Ode to Cosmos)
You, my loves,
seem to simply sway
as I come to nurture you each day,
it’s you who fuels my soul.
Those moments, often causing tardiness,
Common Gold
You carried me-
through cereal dawns,
sleepy Sundays,
Clutching small rituals
All is Art
All is art.
Our lives-
stretched out like a canvas.
Your days home
Penny Candy Scores
I bought them for a dollar
at the penny candy store.
I asked you not to holler-
you said you’d whisper “more.”
When Warnings Bloomed Too Late
When warnings bloomed
too late
on plastered walls-
And monuments,
God or the Mundane
Some,
find themselves
on Sundays
in Communion
with the leisure
Like Yesterday
This morning,
of all the mornings,
the moon woke me.
I followed the light
Chosen and Found
Rivers wind between names, not yet known.
Somewhere between
choice and chance,
map and riverbank;
Chosen and Found
Rivers wind between names, not yet known.
Somewhere between
choice and chance,
map and riverbank;
Plow to Poem
The moon is high in the sky.
But one car has gone down the road.
To look at the clock, it says morning;
Yet, I wonder why I’ve awoken.