Poetry
-

Wild Blueberries
The room cannot be entered, the door is open, but the air is tight, blue walls offer no hint of…
-

When the Light Shifts
On the back of my hand, thick purple lines beneaththin skin. Branches of a golden oak. The road less taken,…
-

-

Poetry
I’m losing it.maybe I’ve lost it.I’ve had it and maybeit’s gone. it’s gonefor tonight.poems just comingshopping lists.bread and new eggs.butter…
-

Haikus at a Paris Café, by the Canal San Martin
Bistro Chez Gastóncappuccino, café crème,plastic roses bloom Fake flowers sway high.Plastic, Parisians scorn,tourists smile, sip slow Sycamore whispersneem trees shade…
-

Vaccination Day
We were learning about vaccinationson an August farm day, crowded with life My friend—a doctor—already knewhow to dose, tap, hold,…
-

A Room like a Reverie
dawn-blue comforter with small white butterflies, the one we bought in the Scandinavian store in another life. The sun rays…
-

-

winter
the chilling windwhispers through a crackin the window,and your aromaclings to the room:sharp,like coffee,with a bitter punch,like how you leavewithout…
-

Lament of Longing Behind a Locked Door
for what lies on the other side.Space between is crisp and electrifiedwith tension. You only want what you wantwhen you…
