Return to the Chattooga River I’ve measured the years in shades of grey. Tonight’s sky is full of lamps. Up…
The dazzle of fireflies in the sticky Jersey night the sour tang of mold tickling my nose in cramped summer…
Beau Soir --after Claude Debussy The sun is long settled and the sky has been assembled then reassembled by an…
Sprang! Tassel-head weeds toss in a fresh wind. Stretch up over rye neighbors, hang out Tap-dancing till they snatch the…
Just One More It’s an old crabapple, not pruned for years, more thicket than tree. I cut dead and diseased…
The Cinderblock Duplex in the Sixties Newly wed with rented furniture. We’d roll to the middle of the lumpy bed…
Daughter I write about her in poems, thinking she can be brought back by songs. In dreams, she floats around…