on this side of the
prelude to spring, all of that
secret world is gone
All articles filed in poet
green jello
every year the dish looms before me on the thanksgiving buffet, its lurid contents lurking, watching for the next innocent plate to appear.
Read Morethe wild garden
all the flowers in the wild garden
have yielded their spirits to autumn’s chill
and become dry brown ghosts, their seeds
falling out of cracked heads and cones
Baltimore
according to family lore
we own all of old Baltimore
granny’s dollies
last thanksgiving granny gave me her dollies
we carefully lifted them from their wrappings
smoothed their skirts, their faces
said their names
the woeful demise of sir launcelot de fenestrare
sir launcelot de fenestrare was a knight with a most haughty air his king he’d annoy — and the whole hoi polloi — with his long-nosed and steely-eyed stare so his brothers in arms had a thought (which evolved to a sinister plot) they sent out their spies to plan his demise so that no…
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all i know of luxumbourg
all i know of luxembourg
is a petrol station
for a moment, heartache pierces keen
the cottage is warmly lit against the early darkness of an autumn night;
as i silently slip past, i notice the silhouette of stickers on new window panes.
the dangling conversation
… for now, the morns are meeker than they were …
… and the crows above the forest call; tomorrow they may form and go …
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good friday
today the warmth returned
and the blond-haired boys were
running wild through beds
of brittle hydrangea
and barren rose canes
when the littlest
still unsteady on his feet
caught his teddybear bib on a thorn