poetry
The Price of Eggs
I dreamt I was a kelp forest swaying in pitch- -black waters. Above me moonlight fluttered like confetti and seagulls roosted on cliff-sides and buoys. An oil tanker drifted by, the workers
poetry
138 posts
poetry
Undecided
I’ve been staring at the wall for hours, wondering why the paint won’t peel off, what’s holding the plaster together.
poetry
America
My son and I spent weeks assembling a Lego car, 3,000 bricks of hard plastic intricately connected to form a whole.
poetry
After Dropping off My Son at Kindergarten: A Villanelle
The adults hurry to their cars as the bell rings, the crossing guard sips his water, takes off his vest: Today the children will read of warriors and kings...
poetry
Signs of Life
When you have run out of courage; when every day is a loaded gun and your hand is not on the trigger; when you have given all you have to give and still disaster looms;
poetry
Worries
Like the pile of books on my nightstand, like the ever-falling leaves in the yard, my worries accumulate.
Be The Change
Meditations on the Moon
The moon, cold and pockmarked and hard, is not dainty. The moon belches starlight, has no gender.
Be The Change
Ode to the Last Dollop
You may think it inconsequential that an empty tube of toothpaste is not, if pressed, empty, but has more to give of itself. You may prefer odes to lofty ideas, or nature, or love...
poetry
To the High School Student Who Thinks Math & Poetry Don’t Matter
In my pocket I have access to all the world’s knowledge: calculators, AI, essays, videos to solve any equation. Still, when the vet says 50% chance of permanent paralysis and, though the literature is sparse, a high probability of Myelomalacia—fatal, painful—I am as the hiker who...
Be The Change
Don’t Watch the News
You don’t need to watch the news. Walk the dog. Lay in the grass. Watch a cloud settle into evening’s funereal pews. That terror which lies in wait will be there when you return...
poetry
Paradise
I’m in a cabana on a beach in Cancún looking Upon light-blue water so warm you can walk Right in, no need to adjust to the temperature.
poetry
The Allure of Cliché: A Sonnet
Neither the moon nor stars alone allure. Celestial lips may good metaphors make, yet we can’t long mere metaphor endure: we seek cliché for companionship's shake.