And sat down beside her… )a poem(
Poets, call themselves Honest. Viewers. Observers. Watchers, Poets are. They give meaning to Miss Spider who scares The curds out of Muffet, who runs away…
Poets, call themselves Honest. Viewers. Observers. Watchers, Poets are. They give meaning to Miss Spider who scares The curds out of Muffet, who runs away…
Boxed in by storage challengesWanting to be lost in the beauty ofDesign and art and full book shelvesOne voice screamsAnother, drips tearsThe third, finds a smileBetween…
The beech blooms first, he noted on A walk around Simmons Mill Pond Where once farmers had carved Lands with stone walls now icons Of a…
At my grocery store there is only one way Through the produce section. Make a mistake passing the apples And you are stuck outside the garden…
My little wren friend, alight on the detritus Collected here for compost or, later, when dry, Burning. That branch where you perch seems As good as…
I found it, the path I needed, Less the doubts and questions, Inside woods I knew I knew. Now, that done, snow begins Falling in small…
Leaves, petals and stamen Down on knees she traces The texture of a flower That emerges to spite her. Palimpsests under foot Words cemented whose Return…
Leaves, petals and stamen Palimpsests under foot Cement over words whose Return pushes up cracks. Leaves, petals and stamen Down on knees she traces The texture…
If you, too, were as eager for the salty brine As her hovering on a shell above foam like a Spector of what might become if…
I imagine, sometimes, not all the time, but often enoughFor you to think me weird, which,In all likelihood, you did before This admissionThat Socrates talks to…