Category Archives: My Poetry

Sleep Vanishes

… … Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto. A few swimmers appear in a huge whirlpool. —Vergil … When sleep vanishes then you swim. Awake is no island merely swift stroke and breath. The moon is not the sun’s skull … Continue reading →

56

21 Jan ’16

… Love comes when least expected and love comes like the rain blowing naked over us making us all wet. Love never makes a fuss. As I grow old, love stays forever young returning like the sun or moon, the … Continue reading →

Uncle

26 Jul ’15

… I’ve an uncle who builds houses and he tells me I don’t write poems that what I write is vile and useless not good for anyone. There was a time I believed him his words allowed crippling all mine … Continue reading →

Fireflies

6 Jul ’15

… … https://vimeo.com/49529998 … … Fireflies Like the tips of smoldering sticks or coals they glow in the grass. The light over all begins to go. Night like a swooping bat or bats comes down from clouds and the white … Continue reading →

10

17 Jun ’15

… To know the truth we need to talk and read. Two at least must do it, talker talker writer reader revealing things that we already know so absolutely sure of our own selves because somebody else was there to … Continue reading →

87

31 May ’15

… She completely sparkles, the girl talking to her father in a conversation that must be a little funny because she starts to laugh as well as talk, talking of her final destination perhaps leaving this very morning on a … Continue reading →

167

28 May ’15

… The butterflies have been here through it all my sadness and my happiness as well. No matter what is going on or how I feel at the very center of my poor self is a wanting to be filled … Continue reading →

168

25 May ’15

… “You are the flower and I am the grass,” the young man says to the young woman. “I am the flower and you are the grass,” the young woman says to the young man. “You are a bird and … Continue reading →

139 & 140

24 May ’15

… There are rice paddies and the lotus pools the farmer in the field, his little dog gone jumping through the stalks, the plodding ox the low houses with terra cotta roofs the sleeping teachers sprawling in the bus and … Continue reading →

212

21 May ’15

… The night comes with a chill not on but in my skin—A spider web at the end of summer stretches in the wind. Decayed dock swaying with my weight sways and sways. Water spiders molest a fallen fly whose … Continue reading →

116

18 May ’15

… “How old is your son?” “He is 9 o’clock,” my student says and the class laughs as well it should. My student laughs and cannot stop nor can anyone. We laugh and the spell goes on unbroken. Everyone shakes … Continue reading →

84

9 May ’15

… My only brother with his bulldozer pushed the brush away from the day lilies uprooting thorns and sumac completely around the bed revealing for Mother those common flowers in all their glory. Now if only she’ll come to look … Continue reading →