Category: for another poet
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the cloven path
Where two paths ran through kudzu vines both appeared the same You couldn’t jog both and chose the smoother one Dewy footprints betrayed your passing you’ll run the other one tomorrow Meanwhile, you’ll tweet on Twitter how when given a choice You remembered Bob Frost and jogged the path not rutted 3-9-22
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Understanding Robert Frost
(for Tim Conroy) Sometimes It’s good to take the road Less traveled Walk in woods Where no one goes Stand behind a tree And flop it out Because old men Need to pee a lot 9-17-21
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meditations on the killing of Lorca
between the rise and fall the honk and wail of distant sirens high above the drone of ritual leaf blowing by bright vested park employees I still discern the call and response of birds chanting to the morning while on the ground looking up waiting for one of them to make a mistake a feral…
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Poem before dying
Lorca wrote of roosters, of eating cemetery grass, of weeping little boys, of snow, of guitars, of murder, of women dropping off to sleep, of a resurrection that will never come, and he makes me weep. I write of barking dogs and feral cats, of trash on asphalt courts, of weeping little boys, of warm…
My husband's poetry 