Monday, May 9, 2016


What’s in the head
with the library?
More than a corpse.
Words meander
over circuits of breath;
a shade moves
up, then down.
Are you naked?

Stepping out from the shower,
a ghost hitches up its scars.
Talk, damn you!
Once upon a time
our eyes closed
in the silence.

Monday, February 8, 2016


A rifle shot comes
from the direction of Main Street,
but the sounding doves outside
the bedroom aren’t startled,
and the noise of traffic
hasn’t stopped.

I should pull the window shade up,
let in the eye-riveting light,
call again for help
from one of the strangers
who moved in.
The darlings always keep busy.

They must be struggling
to make sense of the laundry
hung out to dry on the porch.
I will give the sheets names
for when it gets dark,
and give them a piece of my mind, too,
for their flirty bedevilment.

I’ve always known my husband
couldn’t be trusted.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016


            Let yourself go: mourn in the evening,
            with your curtains pulled open and your lights turned on;
Wail, from dusk to daybreak, straying across your neighbor’s yard.
Go into the hedgerow, safe for a blind bird’s sleep.

Relax!  The moon ladles clouds out of its halo,
and still there is time for your wounds to heal.
            Pray for the starved and cold departed.
            Plead for capable hands,
feeling for reversing the sun’s dementia.         
            Let yourself go; trust the gusting wind
            and the fright outside.

Wednesday, December 23, 2015


First, the lost guy says, “At last,
a street I recognize.”
Then he asks, “Are you who I’ve come to see?”
“It’s not that I have to be,” I say,
“We’re doing things differently now.”

Inventing the chair, women used colors
men were afraid of. 
It worked.
Priapus dressed up, before he sat down.

I could see that the kids were busy,
out in the garden, weeding, 
so I said, “Alright, let’s got for a walk.”
We went around the corner.

“To fit me for a suit,” he said,
“We’ll measure this little world.”
“Then we can describe it,” I said,
            “as my own making, but another’s impulse.”
He smiled.

“You’ve rendered it well,” he said,
            “especially my fondness for light;
soon we will part the black flames
            dancing inside its heart.”

Thursday, November 5, 2015


Once upon a time, there were two facts, and these two facts lived side by side, one in heaven and the other on earth.  They were traveling facts, and every morning, just as it was getting light outside, the heavenly fact came down to earth and the earthly fact went up to heaven.  Each passed their days in study, until the light dimmed, and dusk spread, and then they would put away their studies, and the heavenly fact would return to heaven and the earthly fact to its earth.  One day, just as the facts were passing each other, a sudden gust of wind blew out of nowhere, and carried them off course, for the facts had nothing to cling to, until they each had the thought to hold onto the other.  And when they were firmly in each other’s grasp, they came to a stop, even though the wind kept blowing.  But neither of them recognized where they were, or knew what to do, and eventually, they were surprised to find themselves huddled as close together as they could get, and sharing with each other all that they knew about heaven and earth.  Finally, the wind stopped blowing, because it belonged to neither place, and the two facts became frightened, because they had exhausted their knowledge, and they did not know where they were. This is why, when heaven and earth lie too close together, everything is lost.