Addressing The Flaxen Spirit & Linen Women
byAddressing the flaxen spirit, not yet linen Threshing We come from deep loam, from fields of green, blue heads bobbing. To harvest true selves…
Poetry
Suburban Deer
byOn the sidewalk. On the patio. From the backyard bushes. Doe and fawn leap toward open space to see my young— bright-eyed and sleek…
Guilt
byThe ones who died?—You magnify them with your living, don’t you? Wednesday morning, think how good they would think they had it, even when…
As Lazarus and Self-Portrait as Sin-Eater
byAs Lazarus How deep is deep enough until I reach the bent rafters of my own ribcage? I test the extent of my dimensions….
February 11
byThe moon is out. The ice is gone. Patches of white lounge on the wet meadow. Moonlit darkness at 6 a.m. Again from the…
River 2049
byThe fishbone in my throat You and I on a mound Soil frozen on a rock near the forest You near the pine cones…
On Offerings or Doves
byThe Lord liked his meat well done, oxen, lamb or pigeon, which must’ve been nearer to dove when they journeyed out of Egypt. The…
Two Poems
byFeast Day There’s a patron saint for everything. Nearly all the early ones were martyred. The world has always been this bloody. St. Justus…
Two Poems
bySonnet For the Man Lingering in the Fields One evening in the open & symmetrical fields I watched a man driving the backhoe back…
Two Poems
byfrom Bus North Rural night—the lights off in the distance glint like forsythia petals scattered in a parking lot. Anticipation is an act of…