Mnemonics
The smell of wax reminds me of flowers piled up against the coffin. Surrounded by tall white candles, dusted with …
Previous articles
Thirteen Ways of the Desert
After Wallace Stevens I The desert is painted ocher, turquoise and white in the right kind of light. II In …
Dust to Dust
I like to put this one up now and then so’s we don’t forget our imminent demise – Happy Friday… The …
In the Life and Death of a Marriage
Some things were beyond redemption. Others were simply lost to carelessness. So many of the important things were given away …
Here’s a very good poem by Milosz…
http://us12.campaign-archive.com/?e=1337d1b718&u=c993b88231f5f84146565840e&id=ffae1a6b06
“…and a child shall lead them.”
Something was needed, a weight bearing substance or a strong back. Only children answered the call. Only the children …
Walking the Fence Line
The petals have dried and fallen away. Only stems and seed pods remain. I call them daisies out of habit …
Absolute Desire*
Thought springs forth. We are here, cumulating a past, projecting absolute desire as self; mysterious self? Mystery is rock, is …
Letting Go
The mirror, too full of reflection, fogs in this cold, cabined air. Blowing the night’s embers, drawing a small fire …
An Aubade
A lamentation for the coming of the light… The day comes on, relentless in its rising. The bedroom reeks of …
Poetry on the run 