poetry sings the untold beauty
the desperate value of things
All articles filed in poems
dear joan
“… I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be.” — Joan Didion, Slouching Toward Bethlehem
Read Morea limerick
there was a man named art garfunkel
whose trousers were starting to rumple
petals
the spring-glad trees
have loosed their blossoms
mother bun
mother bun thinks it’s fun
to nest beneath the tool shed
faucet
drip drip drip drip (is that the raindrops or the sink or my nose?)
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as a child
when i was a child
i wanted all the answers
thinking if i knew what was ahead
the waiting somehow surely would be easier
neighbors
at the white house on the corner they’re having a tree cut down —
a perfectly good tree, by the looks of things, with pale green baby leaves bursting from the branches —
waking
if i dream it long enough, often enough
will that make it real
this apparent dearest wish
of my subconscious soul?
easter monday
in the park
the japanese magnolia is shedding
its petals
