Behind the Wheel
1 There is no going back: the lights change At life, and there is one direction driven - Whatever detour, visit, we might arrange From that beginning,…
The Roof-Watcher
After the Agamemnon of Aeschylus Late afternoon of that unending year’s first day, I cringed at clangs, at god strikes tumbling mountaintops, Atremble for my distant lord’s…
Just Before Dawn
Here in my darkest hour, I lie grasped among the roots of damp and mossy oaks while overlooking black alfalfa fields, above which coming fogs will linger…
Running on the Beach With Rebecca
Bike tire treads, tributaries on sand Stamped with footprints, paw pads, the soles of shoes, Stream before us like kite strings with ribbons. Could we run these…
Critters in the Trench
Critters in the trench Instance man’s return To the state of nature. Strategists become Heirs to Hercules Ancient Romans prayed to. Iron General: Does, like any man,…
Approaching the Estuary
At dawn he enters the estuary. Day, night married in the golden ripples, like soft purple robes. While waves gently lap the sides of his skiff he…
Temptation
She is coiled ‘round my being’s roots, Her venom seeps into my veins. Farewell to my imagination’s reigns; I sold all to eat this poisoned fruit. She…
The Window
The glass in a neighbouring window – The edges of its sharp rectangle At moments screened and disclosed By the restless black silhouettes Of leaves, branches, in…
The Sawteeth
Hiking the jagged spine of the Appalachians, fraser fir and spruce trees stretch hands high above me, gnarled beeches reach twisted arms over my winding trail. Moss…
One Less Leaf
(auras of all my autumns) I One less leaf, though a loss, is no cause for grief, Not when so many still cling tightly to their…
Butterfly Collection
Butterflies on display, in genteel rows, Pinned politely dead for our inspection, This is your home now, for how long who knows? Coffined in glass for your…
The Bird’s Song
The bird’s song sleeps. The cicadas cacophonous chatter - so loud you might miss it. They sing in intervals incessant. What are they chanting? To whom do…
Linda Vista: Of Proper Farewells
O, tender-hearted death, when it is time for you to haul my Lilliputian soul away inside your giant pentapedal palms —Herculean, innocent and friendly— sweating with midnight’s…
End of Season
Another summer winding to its end, Its half-achieved ambitions softly ease Into a sort of sleep. What now my friend? What should we do now cold winds…
