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Poetry
(Rosa Bonheur, Rue des Tournelles, Paris 1836) My easel billetedbetween stove and painting chest,Most mornings Papa teachesat an atelier for young ladies,later portrait sittings–a Portuguesefactory..
Poetry
Image etched by Antoine Jean Duclos (French, Paris 1742–1795 Paris) CategoriesPoetry
Poetry
That summer at the ranch, one seasonbefore Stanley hung himself in the toolshed,with rope worn from countless tie-downs–choosing his own handiwork over cancer–there was a..
Poetry
I’ve never before been intosomeone with such small breastsI like my hands to overflow with themto see their teardrop formblood rushes to imagine the color..
Poetry
I guess I could discuss phantoms and pharaohsand the places in between them,or rhyme schemes and what is palatable. it’s been weeksof perpetual reflection.I’ve been..
Poetry
Consider the space between A B,the middle sister nobody sees,or the last invited, all set to gobut left behind wearing a new green coat,speechless, while..
Poetry
Bangkok, Thailand The white egrets in the treetuck up their legs, as still asthe noon heat. In last night’s dreammy high school flamehad been left..
Poetry
When they buried me they put all my statuesIn the very ditch in which I was to be put. Next they put in my estate,Then my..
Poetry
I hope morning is only a suggestion.I hope we linger in bed to memorizeSpring spilling warm sky outside,a collage of our lives as rose-lit. I..
Poetry
a night of a friday on the table next to many empty bottlesi have a penholder two packs of cigarettesa desk lamp and a notebook.on..
Poetry
Zanskar, 1921 Your body will be placed on a large flat rock,High on a ridge in the mountains.The carrion birds are circling,Great wings block the..
Poetry
condifluoia/ˈkɒndɪfluːɪɑ/noun: condifluoia; plural noun: condifluoia 1. the specific scent of tea leaves inboiling water when it soaks in sixstrands of freshly grated ginger on thehand-shredder,..
Poetry
i’m drinking spring water in your bedroom naked head swept back and i can feel you watching my every move or memorizing my arms as..
Poetry
I need to tell you about the old man sitting cross-legged on the crackedconcrete outside the Life building lifting drowningants out of a puddle with..
Poetry
I. Pudgal, my grandmother explained, is the matter that sticksto your soul when you do a bad thing.Cloistered in the sunlight, stippled skin gleamingDidi probably..
Poetry
One of my kids is crying because a girl in the other second grade class fainted during the experience: A mobile planetarium in the gym, harsh..
Poetry
As if the zither wouldn’t quiverVibrate its songThe reconciliation between various components of the familyThe doubtful connectionBetween the kiss of associationAnd loveThe drum double drummingOf..
Poetry
“Like I was suddenly some safer form of fire”-Ada Limon Parallel Mustangs revving at an intersectionBack and forthLike a conversation Between Neanderthals listing their killsAround..
Poetry
I’m much more than a monthSo much longer than a dayI’m that which America fears to teachI’m more than the constitution will ever sayI’m in..
Poetry
It’s okay to dieStanding upA beetle-eatenPine on the slopeOf Mt. Baldy You’re not aloneOne day you justLie down in the brownNeedle-hay that was youTo begin..
Poetry
I’m not about to say it’s anythingother than a coincidence, the factthat somebody in my group over twohundred miles from Bellinghamknows of Jeff Mixdorf, knows..
Poetry
Hurt people, there is no forever.Hurt people, always remember.— Fuad Ahmed Buriganga River washes the feet of your sons,Meghna River bathes ankles of your daughters…
Poetry
is spic and span; you could eat off the floorif there was a floor; there isn’t, justa huge hole you can’t see at first, as..
Poetry
In a plastic container wrapped in ice packs,a human heart sat next to me on the plane.I queried the flight attendant about the heartin the..