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...

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...

Red Pleather Seats

Happy national poetry month! A flash poem a day, every day in April!   Red Pleather Seats above the lunch rush crowd a clattering, plates and cups two women sit alone reading in heaven a young boy, also alone on break from the kitchen intently checks his phone smiling...

Nursery

internet, off now breathing, noticed ears dancing with rain down eve spouts family, hugged, fed, dispersed to their corners paw, across cat’s face wood floor, brightened with daylight through clouds, appreciated aspect, spacious eyes, closed lungs, expanding...

Holy Ground

the old man up the hill tends the garden of the woman next door the woman behind us up the hill donates supplies to schools the woman who lives beside her takes her sick dog for very slow, sunny walks to sniff the life from dewy blades of grass while ailing pup still...

A Poet’s Payment

Need a poem or another gift and you receive one Love a poet and you fall in love with every face within translucence Walk, or drink, with a poet feeling the whole truth of a place complete with hatred, laughter, fear betrayal, goofiness, and tears: theirs yours ours...