Category: poetry
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Dancing to the hits on weather channel
Wind picks up Head bangs tree tops Limb lands in yard Dangerous downbeat Two days before equinox End of winter blowout party This rave may last hours Please, no one O.D. 3-18-21
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maybe, I’m ok
When I was young I would page through Playboy for cartoons now I do the same with the New Yorker maybe this is a sign of progress maybe a sign of lower testosterone maybe it is both and I’m okay with that An ant appears from somewhere wanders across the page unafraid maybe it’s a…
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how I became a poet
When I was in fourth grade they tried to teach me violin but I was called a sissy I put down my case and fought When I was seventh grade I wanted to play French horn but trombones were cheaper I knew all the troublemakers and band secrets I’d laugh and would not snitch When…
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Erasing John
Believe in everything Until disproved Believe in fairies Myths, dragons All exists If in your mind Who’s to say Dreams aren’t real? 2-10-21 ** Erasure poem from this quote by John Lennon: “I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your…
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Sitting with M.C.
“…..let us then try to climb the mountain, not by stepping on what is below us, but to pull us up by what is above us…..” M.C. Escher M.C. and I sit between hemispheres, Discuss whether we are descending or ascending. Is the floor a ceiling or just a floor? Hands reach out from chests…
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handful of tercets
in the woods by the pond high up in a tree lone bird calls alone three notes repeatedly does it call for love for a friend or just to hear its voice piercing tercets reaching out again and again and again in the woods by the pond high up in a tree 1-3-21
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Quatrains say goodbye to 2020
stand among wet trees coffee cup on fence rail muddy pond reflects bare trees, green hill, white overcast sky across the pond there is a path from the west it forks but from the east its branches become one path my cup is empty I will walk home from east to west alone in the…
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Gray hat
Dear Mom, today is cold. I stand in the chill where the sun breaks through trees to sip coffee. Most mornings, I throw a handful of keto granola for a brave mockingbird that busily gathers it up next to me. It reminds me of you and how you always bustled about your kitchen. A brown…
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The process
Before it disappears Write Revise Pull form from bone Set it free Before it disappears 12-3-20
My husband's poetry 