The Graves Back Home
Never quiet, the graves back home,Mom prodding Pop in their bed, “You’re snoring!”Grandma exclaiming to Grandpa for the millionth time,“Smoking that pipe... Read more.
Ode to Our Places in Time
O haven’t we been something,we Gracies and Joans, Williesand Bobs baring our hearts,entreating all to feel, imagine—our youths crossing the stage,steps by hope... Read more.
Life and the Art of Peeling Potatoes
Like a surgeon wielding a scalpel,she excised potato eyes like tumors,snaked long peels from the mealy flesh—her eyes scarcely glancing at her hands.Potatoes proved... Read more.
It’s a Dandelion Day!
To see these multitudinous children of the sunfrolicking upon my shaggy yard, their yellow-plumed heads lifting, bobbing, surely summoningthe scurry of nectar-craving... Read more.
Ode to Our Places in Time
O haven’t we been something,we Gracies and Joans, Williesand Bobs baring our hearts,entreating all to feel, imagine—our youths crossing the stage,steps by hope... Read more.
Gramps and I
we cast our lineout and backout and backGramps and Iout and backsun on watersun in eyesGramps and Ibullfrog croaksblackbird trillsout and backbuckets to sit onworms... Read more.