25 Saturday Apr 2026
Posted in poems
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An open boat crossing takes the kind of luck
that survivors must carry on their backs.
Being from another place is a risk,
but staying put will not get you there.
Washed up unwanted on the icy shore,
the hard line of the horizon at your back.
The dim light, shuttered windows, the chill,
all signs of things to come.
TollThe wind rolls free for the taking.Jack pines complain, clouds curdle.The sun is a cardboard cutout,and we are silhouettes on …
For some Love is a monster in the closetwaiting in the darkness to pounce.For others Love is an angel guiding …
Thirty years my father labored in a film factory.There is no evidence he ever took a picture.There is a family …
I came across this poem by Pat Schneider, The Patience of Ordinary Things, and I want to share it with …
Knit 1 Purl 1The strands we weave to create the Life we have.They are corded by intimate familiarity,the conduit, braided …
Walking along with a head too full of nothing,out into a day that is too much of everything.A day made …
Peonies jitterbug in rhythm with the wind.Mondo grasses slam dance in their shaggy mohawks.I waltz out the door and into …
In the activity beneath the surface,below the conscious permission I give to thought,that is where I find the poetry, such …
Questions of Love …Is it in the genes? A behavior determined in our DNA?If it is wouldn’t we be better …
Poetry on the run 