The Invitation

I love it when the wind strolls in and my meadow friends dance and bow. Love it when waves rush to crash across my ocean where the wide beach smiles up where the eagles rest silent on the wind above etch greetings sky to horizon down to me all the way home: carried...

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...

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”...

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...

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...