How the tall trees swayed in the middle of the night in that strange pale glow not from a moon but god knows what all of us awash with a storm spitting sideways as if we were all hanging onto… Read More ›
poem
Boy Scouts, coming for the dead
Outside the neighbor’s rhododendron was flapping, the tall trees swaying. We were between fronts. What they call a sun break out here. I remembered the Boy Scouts were coming for the dead Christmas trees but you had to have them… Read More ›
Thanks giving
And then for a time it is just the sound of the dog licking an empty bowl I’ve turned out all the lights so the coming dawn can fill every room and why do we say, “I’m filled with loss”… Read More ›
My old man pose
I ate last night’s dinner for breakfast, wild mushrooms in bone broth. I sat by myself in the nook chewing, contemplating the day. It passed without report. In the middle of the night the moon made the fog look like… Read More ›
Poem for the days
They don’t matter, most of the days. Don’t matter because we squander them the same as water down the drain thinking there will always be more. The ones we remember are for good or bad reasons but the truth is,… Read More ›
Poem to celebrate an open PO
On the last day before I went back to work I lay on the sofa with my shirt off and the morning sun coming in, playing a record, burning incense, reading poetry. All I had left was to clean the… Read More ›
Fifty-fifty clown
The crow’s wings are magician hands that flap and disappear through the swirl of animal souls and the gray marine layer of morning. The lake is gray too, ribbed by a breeze or by paddle boats, the same each day… Read More ›
