Artist Statement

Poetry isn’t what I was taught in middle school: rules and stilted contained lines written by long-dead rich old white dudes? Bleh. (I am not my friend Knox who makes old white guys so sexy.) Poetry is living your artist statement. Whether that means saying yes...

Security

Security /səˈkyo͝orədē/ noun Weapons, walls, blame, and technology are not security. For me security is an open space within. Security is the freedom to be a gentle sprite at rest and moving among ever-shifting hearts. Cross-generational laughter. Borrowing others’...

Turning the Wheel

for Lynne   1. There is a voice that says “You don’t belong here.” that says “Your voice is not welcome here.” that says “This is my home. Not yours. Get out.” 2. Here is another voice that calls “Bullshit” on the first voice that urges “Fight” urges “Protest”...

What the Soil Said

If I was a person this world would destroy me. Good thing then that I am at peace under your fingernails. A robin on her nest. Shining feather grass waving in the ditch. Moving clouds at rest in the sky. And the wind rolling foam into waves for the fun of it. You may...

In Saying Goodbye

I found a perfect dead bird on the deck, outside the window victim of violence a deceptive white light through too-big windows his perfectly groomed feathers grew darker as they moved from his pale yellow-gray head to his almost black tail I spent yesterday willing...

Arlo

Happy final day of national poetry month! A flash poem a day, every day, in April! Looking forward to next year. Here’s today’s silly poem… Arlo Waggingly he came from the streets of LA Bundled up, shipped off to Seattle where average time to...