MAY 2025

My arrowroot forgives me easily / For lax unintentional dry spells when / Leaf blades fold in when parched, like palms upright, / Tight clasped in prayer, awaiting baptism

APRIL 2025

looking into the eyes of a pine marten / there was no holding of gaze / there was no recognition of shared experience / there was no deep time

APRIL 2025

My eyes feel like two saltwater pearls / Freshly pinched and placed beneath my eyelids.

APRIL 2025

At the cabin in the clearing among woods / at the end of a rough dirt road winding up a hillside / in the late afternoon mix of golden sun / and shadow and stillness / ...

APRIL 2025

My joints screel        metal on metal

            freighttrain reluctant and

                         clinging to the rim of autumn

MARCH 2025

It would almost make sense / to get a part-time job at the shoe store / where I could use the employee discount / to keep my sons’ feet well-shod.

MARCH 2025

I slither through the dense crowd / Among a wave of chestnut brown / And the room is suddenly silver / At the sight of his salt and pepper

MARCH 2025

There’s so much out there, it can seem like too much / All dangerous / Cold, hot / Airless, dry / Radioactive / Incomprehensible

MARCH 2025

sits atop a hill / pastures slope down

FEBRUARY 2025 

The drunkard takes his tea / from the cop named Bharat / who releases him every / morning without bothering / to fill in the forms and papers.