Nothing has waited for me. The river shrugs its fog shawl. Fisher birds shriek, light whitewing flecks of untouched watercolor paper, watchful of what bubbles in the ink. From a forgetful distance I’m returning to beauty out of harsh grief,…
Browsing Category Poetry
Nature Poet
–for Lucas Clark In the rain, I climb into the mouthof the cave, and Lucas is rowing throughhis dream. He says, there are so many peoplein the next life, like you wouldn’t believe.His boat has…
Dear East County
You cradled our moto-X babies, our strip mall teens, and three pack a day fathers, chilled our ring-tabbed beer cans in your run-off rivers, and absorbed oilrising like mist from our vats of fried food, sucked exhaust from our…
Ruins & Stage Three
Ruins A child, two sizes too small. An improvised bomb on loan from the city’s museum of modern art. A plagiarist on the street corner tapping veins for the aftermarket haiku. A chamber maid removed…
Liminality, Organic Ambrosia
The lingua franca around here is produce. In the morning they arrive in droves, whole crops of apples drifting down the receiving ramp, packed breast to breast, these stubborn and hopeful things. Money and I…