Kim Stafford, Oregon’s Ninth Poet Laureate Some say he followed in footsteps, wore hand-me-down boots or learned to pull up…
Grief Something has nested above my heart Its musical notes rise up like sighs then fall like fledglings trying too…
Bury Me Standing We’re all dead. We’re all lying in the clover, black-eyed with regrets and ‘tectonic grievances’. We’re all…
Wapato Island November 5th Tuesday 1805 a Cloudy morning Som rain the after part of last night & this morning.…
His Gift All winter the tools hung in neat rows in her cold garage: saws, screwdrivers, try squares, among them…
Born in a San Francisco Tributary First night back in my childhood home after the remodel, the AC kicks awake…
Deschutes River Dream The river is green opaque, swift. Current runs steady, deep. Reeds sway at river’s edge. Hooded Mergansers…
Wabash Banner Blue A night of trees and winds mangled sparrows a dreamless sleep a shutter opens nursing in brumal…
Holiday Dazzlers Since we grew up and left home, Christmas has never been the same. There’s that photo in the…