From the Ground Up
a poor harvestof winter wheat . . .still, I grind the grainon the old stone wheelthen sow the fields again It's morning. Nails protrude through loose floorboards, throw rugs lie…
Driftwood
The wandering woman curls her toes into the sand as a wave cascades over her feet. The cool, frothy wash provides an interesting contrast to the heat of the merciless…
Dreamories
~Chicago: In the Hypnopompic State of Illinois, USA In the early hours of a brand new day, I back my car out of the garage and park it temporarily on…
The Magic Kitchen
Rita says she'd like some soup. It's Christmas Eve, so my reaction is to ask her, "What kind of soup would you like?" "Oh, let me see, something vegetably, maybe a bit potato-ee. You…
No Quarter
fields of cotton . . .we sing "Amazing Grace"with the larksPine shadows rest on the flowering dogwood. Steadfast, we've marched to this place. The Southern Cross and Old Glory wave—colors…
The Last Exit
It begins somewhere in the nebulous inklings of REM sleep, at just about midnight, as we're speeding down a quiet wooded road. Sara has the wheel in a stranglehold. We’re…
Anchors Aweigh
my muse and Imake love on the placid pagesoon drenchedas Hokusai's Great Wavebreaks on our shore There is a quiet here—save for the clack of my Smith Corona*—that only midnight…
Exponential
My muse has seduced me again. You’re the Writer. You’re the only one who can write it.It’s your responsibility to write it—your duty! So, here I sit, fingers massaging keys…
T Minus 10
Spaceman, always looking up, a compass with no needle, lost it shooting up. Always shy half-a-moon, he's off to Heaven to file a complaint—too many burned-out stars, more every day;…
H2O
from millilitersto dripsto puddles, streams, and pondslakes, springs, rivers, and seasice and fog and cloud and rainsteam, sweat, and tears i am a set of moleculesconceived only who knows how?a…
