Masks encouraged. Totes hang on mustardwalls, all checkered. We’re in shorts and summershirts. I touch the bristle of my beard.We’re allowed to now. To sip my rough mochabetween the gaps of my teeth under the hanginghoneybee lights, people all around me touchingtheir own faces. Read More in Poetry
We play on a cul-de-sac with a big grass circle in the center. We call thisEarth. When we score, we must slide and crash into a neon-blue cone. This ishome, our batter’s box, where we explode every time with arms flailing,mouths spit-flying rockets. My father always drags the bag of mitts and gearto our curb.... Continue Reading →
The first black Peppered Moth was recorded in Manchester in 1848 and by 1895, 98%of Peppered Moths in the city were black. —Butterfly ConservationPeppered Moths abhor salt and anything white. Long ago, they bathed insunshine, soaked in roses’ halo glow. Now, they camouflage themselves aschimney sweepers, speak with a cockney accent, and dance in shadows.... Continue Reading →
Gather my son to eat a dinner of hot soup and crusty bread. Apologize to mysisters for not liking them more. Thank some friends for hours of vivifyingtalk, but let the calls from others go to voicemail. Touch the pink vincaflowers that blossomed for me through every desert summer and water theindoor plants, because they... Continue Reading →
Each year at Christmas my grandmother sendsa paper bag of shelled pecans.This year I find not halvesbut dozens of perfect whole pecans,naked and golden brown,surely impossibilities with shells so hardand flesh so soft.When I was a child, pecanswere the only nuts my hands could crack,and as the sweet meat broke anointedinto bits on the plate,I... Continue Reading →
Not strange with myself,I am at odds withthis chair & the warm airrising from the pavementoutside the window.Let me sit here, figure outwhat I am about.Nameplate enough foridentity, feet soreenough for reality.Trace the field of cosmic dustin the wake of my creations,pieces of karma assembledwith invention, inserted witha twist & hook into the matrix.Move at... Continue Reading →
Look toward the sun in Octoberand you’ll see its light everywhereas a hazy scrim comprised of motessoon to assemble and disappear,as though the air knows it’s timeto pack itself together, wrappedin its own hug or a new layerof skin. Before the air’s painted blackwith cold, let’s go to the gardenand dig out the Yukon potatoes.Steam... Continue Reading →
Think of all the timethat poured throughthe two of us, but notas a reason to stay.It was never sandslipping throughfingers.It was windbrushing throughleaves, a wrinkle of airnicking the crisp edgeof your life against mineand for a momentwe shared the skyaloft and alwaysabout to fall. Read More in Poetry
Dance this sentence nowCan't catch her. You're all noun twirling.She's all verb leading More from this Author Read More in Poetry...
At which I crash througha champagne fountainon my way to the dance floorto pry you from the oiled bronzearms of Mr. Right.Dragged through a crowdof laughing cool kids,unbelievably attractive and rich,then pitched off the front porchinto a big mud puddle by two hired goons.Call them Truth and Beauty.Call them Karmic Justice and Just Desserts.My face... Continue Reading →
