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”...

Dear Artist,

accept throwing out everything you knew was true each morning starting again from the beginning or well before then uncertainly receiving just one certainty each day some days, mine is a friend or a warm breeze or a cat other days, mine is a poem or an essay or a book...

Right Here

blades of green bend low and breathe in damp, the misted seaside glows, fog yellow gray among planked houses, sunlight slants across the field, racing tree shadows tumbling down and softly yield those dry spots are deer footprints strong and hesitant tenderly picking...

This Stone

This stone was a gift from Wyoming she longed to travel so a friend pulled her from her field brought her here to me to live beside the sea she found herself in a house of rocks here from every nation imagined herself at first in train station here she was appreciated...

Gunman Me

flash poetry for Sabina Giado   She showed up in my feed after the shooting saying the wisest of things: “We all really need to examine ourselves and think about what separates us from these gunmen. Patience. Compassion. Humility. Humanity. Will we give those...