Poetry

Pet

By on Nov 19, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | 2 comments

My wife elbows me awake. Clawing and chawing up in the ceiling has stirred us out of slumber again. In the quiet dark the critter sounds more immense than a mouse— maybe it’s a fisher cat, or a raccoon. The gnawing and clawing and chawing panics us, flat, prone, staring into the universe of darkness— frozen in fear over aware of the thin fabric of our PJs, (we whisper because we are afraid it will hear us), we imagine the animal will bust through the ceiling in a shower of sheet rock and splintered wood, land confused and angry right on top of us attacking with shredding claws and...

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The Mad Girl Remembers Leaving the Old Year Behind in Madrid

By on Nov 5, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

flamencos past the catacombs, gypsies past the monastery of cloistered monks. How little she supposed years past those days her hair hung past her wrists she’d ache for nights when it struck midnight and everyone who mattered to her would be a moat around her aloneness, wildly swallowing green grapes as the clock banged at each bell and cheers and sparkling white wine filled the ink blue air. Those dozen grapes gulped in the square, fast, faster to insure a good year to come. How she’d look for the smallest green grapes, giggling and swallowing for luck and love and then the...

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Flying to New Jersey

By on Nov 5, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

Slap some wings on me And I’ll fly easier, thirty thousand feet Above the ground of dusty shoes. Seen from above, the San Francisco fog Has flattened out and spread across the state. Rivers, peaks and plains Form the features of its airbrushed terrain. Suddenly, green land appears, Sliding underneath a broken coast of fog. I hold my breath and say a prayer. Superstition is reflexive; earnest pleadings Bring a sense of calm as I commend my soul. The pitch of apprehension fades When I notice that the air is stale, the quarters Cramped. Next time, I’ll take the...

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Automne Memoires en Provence

By on Nov 5, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | 1 comment

He disappeared in the dead of winter… the brooks all frozen and the airports almost deserted… W.H. Auden float across chilly October mornings in St. Remy, singing your friendship out across the fields where last summer’s Lavender and Sunflower blooms chased the sun from horizon to horizon. Like Gypsy singers they sing their bright sadness into stillness coaxing leaves to desert their holy attachment to another season on the branches of Van Gogh’s delicate Olive trees and Avignon’s white Sycamores, and join the great loneliness of orange moons...

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Fall in Philadelphia

By on Oct 29, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | 1 comment

Days burst with time. Leaves aflame with color. We trudged through neat piles toward grownup-hood. We had all that we wanted. Youth untouched by earthquakes and aftershocks, we found shelter from the autumn chill playing touch football with neighbors. Unaware we wanted for nothing. This morning an oil painting beckons— a gazebo strewn with wispy vines and landscape of pink blossoms— draws me to dream, backward and forward. We want all that we...

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Cauldron

By on Oct 29, 2017 in Featured, Poetry | 1 comment

The cauldron of sunset Slight rain across the forest A tree’s calm presence, its roots deep under the surface of things, hidden within earthen mold and a mightier silence A tree’s calm presence, a tree’s calm presence A mightier silence of earth.

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