Traditionally, the rich partook of diamonds
in the drawing room just before dinner.
Butlers filled and passed the heirloom lith-bowls
made of ebony or jet, and subtly shaped… 243 more words
A winding road through the bright-leaved maples,
a hillside orchard where a girl sells apples,
a brown cow pond with wind stirring ripples.
A narrow path to the river shallows, 69 more words
1 week, 4 days
After you’ve dug among the bones,
considered the circles and mounds,
the trepanned skulls and corpses daubed with red,
go alone to a crossroad at dawn, 88 more words
2 weeks, 1 day
Logging, spy-hopping, bubble-netting.
You wave flipper-legs;
your breath clouds
blow in the bay.
You sound: your humpy back,
tiny hipbones hidden,
your flukes up
like splaying feet. 45 more words
3 weeks, 2 days
Tell me about risk.
About walking through thunder,
loving too hard,
throwing yourself at crowds.
What does safety matter?
Your grandmothers crossed great rivers.
They carried babies, cooking pots, 83 more words
~response to a young poet
who thought the subject “too pedestrian” for poetry
“Hotflashes” are not pedestrian–not
dull colorless drab humdrum lackluster stodgy uninspired
“lacking in liveliness, charm, or surprise” – 231 more words
1 month, 1 week
I went to Poland to meet my family.
I went to mend a broken circle. I
went half German. I returned half Polish.
I returned with amber beads and vodka, 508 more words
1 month, 2 weeks