We Only Lost

We buried them along this ridge when time Was our to spend as one among the clouds; We ran and rode and swam and loved and died The way our mothers, and our fathers, had. The sun a friend, the moon a guide, the stars Just like the wind, companions in our quest: For we … Continue reading "We Only Lost"

Blank Verse

The way I work is pointlessly obsessed, Extracting detail from the commonplace – To see the outline of what isn’t there: Projecting, pushing, prodding, putting on — Do you, friend, find reality too much? I must have my imaginings at times; I do believe that signs and stains are one, And we break habits, or … Continue reading "Blank Verse"


you took your camera out into the snow with joy upon your face of twenty-three, and laughter swelled upon the fields in drifts and rang across the hollow through the smoke from chimneys up and down the backyard way, as images of icicles and frost and crystalline embodiments you shot, in days before you’d ever … Continue reading "snowshots"

my first heroine

your sunset was my sunrise. all the same, you laughed to see the joy you thought i felt. there was a bit of irony in this: but i was in my taking phase, and so, took you for granted, and your grace as due. i know, because our roles are now reversed: not times of … Continue reading "my first heroine"

the painted water

I’d ask you once again, but Lord, I know How everything arrays itself on you: That’s friends, and troubles, dynamite, and dust, That’s beauty, glory, gratitude, and grief, A multitude, a plethora of all That makes the world seem bigger than our hearts. So by the painted water sit awhile: There is a smear, a … Continue reading "the painted water"
If I could bring you gusts of winter stars, And Christmas lights across a frozen lake, Then soon to warm and blanket we would go, And love would be the only thing we’d need. For though the nights grow long, and heart unsure, I think, together, we could find some peace, And build our fire … Continue reading ""


the queens of meritocracy, who sing of shortness in the lifespan, and the fall of capillaries once encumbered flush, the way that halls for Kostelanetz filled, when everyone who knew was frozen red. hereby the wind, afraid it might be late, takes bits of snow with it, to reassign a crinoline escape to stalk and … Continue reading "snow-cherries"