the aging birdhouse sits, its former dwellers gone, this lonely spot’s forgotten now, for everything moves on. the builder’s hands at work, the careful markings drawn, but none remember who did what, for everything moves on. creation, though, is good, our souls to build upon — for we who see can take this forth, for … Continue reading "For The Birds"
the world has seen the stars as they turn by, a carousel: another set of bed clothes put away, new clientele to occupy, unknowing of the past — the state where everything must go, at last. they sky is singing: perfect artistry, to parallel a gathering of silent coterie to citadel the heaviness of wings … Continue reading "plus five"
Anything I encounter in life reminds me of everything else: it can be hard to organize your thoughts when this is the case. As a poet, I can pull anywhere from the stream of these associations, regardless of how tenuous the connections seem; as an essayist, I find my habit of jumping around from thing … Continue reading "All Anyone Can Do"
I was fourteen, we held hands on a bus — Why do I still remember? All of our friends were looking at us, Why do I still recall? The summertime heat and the way her heart beat — The joy-of-the-touch, and the this-is-too-much — The whispering looks, and the smiles, and such — I still … Continue reading "One Heaven Too Many"
across these last few steps, an echo and a chance — the memory of a song, the shadow of a dance She walked out into a cold November morning, not really caring where she was headed. When she and her husband had arrived at the farm the previous night, it had been dark. When she … Continue reading "reverberation."
A smear across a sullen sky: But then, a little underlight — The morning’s gray and hard and cold, But maybe, it will be all right. There was a time when life was kind, And not a cause for fight or flight: The day is full of trouble now, But maybe, it will be all … Continue reading "Underlight"
It’s not the cold and lonely, it’s The memory of The warm The holiday season has started in this country, and it brings with it an emotional weight, a gravity, akin (in the physical world) to that of a neutron star. It typically pulls us in, be it for joy, or sadness. Many of the … Continue reading "The Weight of Holidays"
I am fascinated by human voices: all ages, all kinds, all accents, all timbres. I love hearing the sounds infants and toddlers make on their way to speech. In the nursing home where I have been visiting for the last two plus weeks, the staff frequently speak Spanish to each other, which my ear automatically … Continue reading "One Voice"
The book is closed, the pages read, The heart, the hand that kept and fed, The journey walked, the words all said, The wall is done retaining — The shadows lengthen, as they will, And winter slinks in, with its chill, No more is added to the bill, For all that’s left Is staining Friday … Continue reading "Staining"