Who will say death? --to Seamus Heaney He dug deep into the layered peat of personal and collective inheritances. His…
Cicada Your tambourine may be a distraction to the other members of our congregation but I like the raw electrical…
One Winter Night in Maine We trudged up the hill to Malcolm's field in our mittens, woolen coats, scarves snugged…
Moonlight Moon’s a farrier affixing Shoes to the underside of Leaves, steel-bright, twirling On shafts, fastened by wind, Some steal…
At My Door a Beggar Eyes asking for plenty, seeing I have enough, he stands in the doorway…
Listening to the Katy Train The back yard was where my mother hung laundry out to dry between two crosses,…
Spessart Forest Near Fulda, 1977 --with a line drawn from Charles Swinbourne (Hendecasyllabics) Last night I dreamed Hansel and Gretal…
--after rereading "Saying Your Name Three Times Underwater" by Sam Roxas-Chua If, After the Collapse of Africa’s last elephant, I…
On the Death of Seamus Heaney He is crossing those four green fields now. On the horizon, blossoms falling like…