Category: Death & Afterlife
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Dad
Yesterday, was three years since I counted your last breaths. I tried to post about it, but didn’t. I thought of the summer before college. I was going to walk across America with a staff I carved from a sapling and kept behind the door of my room. I was going to listen to American…
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Choking on Colossians 3:18
Last year, you cut the vine choking young trees in your yard Rhythmic sucking sounds haunt trees Leave scars where sap drained from flesh This morning, rotted pieces fell from sky you gather tinder by the wood pile 10-23-26
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Listen
Autumn comes slow lingers green A few tired leaves refuse to wait a killing frost Dress in yellow shrouds leap into air Unafraid of death Shut your eyes listen…..to Caress of limbs on way to ground Slow dry rain mocking, rustling laughter 10-21-20
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In my veins
In my veins, my parents walk hand in hand reading letters written across the ocean of a world war. I look out with my father’s eyes remarking on the country he fought to preserve and the sad state of his Grand Old Party or with my mother’s eyes to see what season it is and…
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two haikus for a limb lying in the grass
lichen covered limb to what heights did you attain before you fell here? I will light your pyre your fragrance to scent my clothes free the glow within 10-13-20
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Writing a Poem in Time of Election Debate
cellulose fillet mycelium feast beauty lies down with a corpse hot tea in blue cup waits for rain upon stump (posting tomorrow’s poem an hour early) 9-29-20
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a walk at dusk
yellow rose western sky in the East Aegean blue long shadow walk I heard the day before an old friend’s wife transitioned her name was Rose blue sky morning transitions to rain 9-28-20 (for my childhood friend, Chuck Shannon)
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The caressing bow
in fresh mown grass she stood outside the hospice window bow caressed violin _____ on the other side music embraced her mother kissed her cheek and said goodbye 9-23-20
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Not if, but when
too intent on not dying we do not live death examine etchings on walls of passage gouges and scratches on exit door frame stop, carve your initials with X’s and O’s turn the handle and pass through 9-22-20
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for Nick Vulpi
Today, we drove to mile marker 99; nothing special to see; Nothing says that last week a visitor from Canada Stopped to offer help to a young man we knew as boy What did he say and what was the reply? Simple words of kindness shared, lost in the gore Of another drunk behind the…
My husband's poetry 