a poem — I was married in a white hessian veil unsoiled in white rose water corseted in white whale bones bound in white jute lace obscured in white starched crinoline penned in white burlap birdcage swathed in white barbed filigree presented on white pearl-strung tenterhooks handed a bouquet of baby’s breaths of cream carnations of…

a poem — The smell of a new book …crisp on your pillow held in your hand your skin, your sleep, your scent orange blossom nectar tea from deeply exhaled breaths painted on paper leaves while I slept curling my toes curling my toes into warm dens of soft places while I slept you…

a poem — “It is such an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool.” - Frank L. Baum It is such an uncomfortable feeling to know you are a fool a fool and human you became human when you divorced him (number 3) and my school and my home and my woods and my brothers…

a poem — Sweating amber-olive tiaraware thick and sweet with tea kissing Grandma’s grapevine table iron cast and daubed in lime-white years chipped with memories and bruised with knees dimmed marigold-honey rays pungent jasmine-jostled breezes flickering magnolia shadows across carpets of clover and zoysia picked clean by hand trespassers twisted up by the root so they don’t come…

a poem — I can’t focus among the chaos flying toys, bibles, shoes. Brainwaves running slime mold all directions engulfing stimuli in a cytoplasmic mass. There is not a face you see in dreams that you haven’t seen in waking life. Who are all these strangers? (Will I dream about them later tonight?) I would have…

a poem — Stand stock still Ears attuned Legs poised to spring Listen as you stand hear his car door hear his keys turning hear his footsteps stand, do not sit If you are spotted Sitting is next to laziness Clean as you stand straighten the mess straighten the chaos straighten the memories …

a poem — The grownups curse under their breath when they hit the ruts in the driveway some of the mud gets lost in the wheel wells but there is always plenty left for me enough for a few pies my own recipe no one told me I just know how crushed berries off…

a poem — I would drown I would not gasp for breath I would not grasp for life my bubbles my breath my pneuma would have disturbed Your Reflection you could look down upon the still waters See Yourself and you would not see me through the surface I would breathe water I would…

a poem — Dogs have otherworldly hearing Mine heard the mimosas close after midnight and woke me in anticipation of pawing the dew poised on grass blades Through the door to their fenced freedom beyond the solitary bulb glow pooled over the back stoop they slipped into the new moon pitch I drooped…