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the gift: a huitain
The mailbox teased, withholding for nine days this gift of images; a world, a mind, a map to your soul, in a written maze I follow until dizzy in it. I sift through the silt of your words, and I mine...
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the pause before fall
the air has that ripening apple smell & nights are cooler. still, summer threads sun to my skin in the afternoon to blend coconut lotion heated to a gentle simmer with my vanilla & honey soap...
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what it means, uncovering what’s hidden
your hair was long when we met, hippy hair my mother called it carbon-dating herself or estimating age in tree rings; polished brown chestnut, curling slightly to tease your neck where it met your...
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dissent
rebellion isn’t always active. it can be the shake of a head no, sitting down on a bus & refusing to stand, stubborn flesh slacked into complete noncooperation: WE SHALL NOT BE MOVED it is not...
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what pigs can tell us about kindness
this is one of those things you read about, like a dolphin helping to push a whale out to open ocean, working next to two-legged things without fins we learn of dogs nursing kittens or even tiger pups...
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Don’t get carried away by this–quadrille rewrite
Give me 59 small stones for my pocket and i will skip prayers across my creek for you that’s my faith– in stones and things harder than stone; pebbles my rosary and prayer is not just inside a voice...
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scar quadrille
scar–that shine on my shin from a fall off my bicycle the red curve under a belly that birthed children and a calligraphy of scratches these are proof of passage through a world that marks us forever...
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