Netflix
These days we keep our wary distances, isolated in our vacant spaces, the hours peeling like lead paint. We are …
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Dusk
Night obscures what the sun made simple. The simple confusions of dusk, shadow’s tense blending with light, light appearing and …
Reflected Light
It’s just that there is no prior shape to be ascertained, so it isn’t a matter of not seeing. It …
Aftermath
There will be no lack of aftermath, no absence of knowledge, of a situation finally grasped. The brain makes what …
Lost Things
They are ghostly dreams now, even so, we keep the names, it makes us feel better. We want a scenario …
The Truth About the Past
This poem is prompted by “Letter to My Great, Great Grandchild” by J. P. Grasser The truth is we did …
4 AM
After Jane Hirshfield The night becomes a long exile when the dark hour arrives like a lone bell, calling out …
Plato’s Cave
It was a phase, everything a parade of shadows on the wall. I step forward now, restless, uncertain about how …
Remains
Something just turns and something falls into place. Then the young fly away, scarlet on their wings flashing in the …
Make-Believe
Ahh the soul, the ubiquitous nonentity that animates us, we are sock-puppets, yapping dream-dipped meat sacks. So much good work …
Poetry on the run 