Saddled
A boy, hammered into steel. With an anvil for a mother, my father the sledge his rage a fire …
Previous articles
Not Lost
To think…what is lost? Her heart invents reason; reason, an art, being enough to call a wayward child home. …
Problem Solved
The neighbor is clearing his driveway of snow too deep to shovel. He uses a machine to blow it up …
Magic
I see a child whose life is dying of thirst. I see a child chasing droplets of water in a …
A Love Poem To The Higgs Boson
Well it won’t write itself and that’s the problem. I can’t write it, it won’t be written, and that most …
Easy As Pie
No one in my family eats the cherry pie. Why? It is beautiful there on the counter in its white …
Workshop
Too many people who know too many things. Could they possibly know it all? Having read some poetry, having …
June Bug Love For Charles Bukowski
He is Hank to anyone who knows. When he drinks it is just enough to release something bright, alive (his soul?), …
The Tender Mercy
Cherubim sing atonal hymns in Baroque halls where even a Demon can be corrupted; seduced by music to sway with …
Grace*
She fell gracefully, perfectly balanced like the sweep of a dancer’s arm in reverence, subtle as the Balanchine hand, complex …
Poetry on the run 