National Poetry Month Letters to Poets Series — Here I am just trying to save the world with one love letter at a time. Writing unfurls slowly in a busy clime, in the hothouse of a framework that hurls challenges at me constantly. Effects seem unlikely. Bravely I pick daisies and count the petals, aloof of all rejection (just kidding, not really; I’m too touch feely) Hope keeps towing…

National Poetry Month Letters to Poets Series — Where in Xanadu, tormented soul, could you now be found whole? With all of life’s blue problems washed away, in white robes whose hopes blossomed like a new day evermore from the shore waving. Bowl upon golden bowl takes its toll. So shipwrecked, the serpent’s chase; his hiss, amiss, his bite, so sweet, replaced…

Into the West Sonnet Series — Seeking a stone to fill the hole of loss that gaped and sang for medicine. Precious as silver mined or a hawk feather tossed by the wind, where the high desert’s spacious grace gives benediction to art. Holy dirt in a hole in the floor, offering a cure, a miracle. We were only travelers, become pilgrims, bestowing meaning…

Poems and prints —

An Elegy and a Tribute — Today I can write the saddest lines write, for example, “the sun is shining for the first time in weeks but I hardly notice it” the night revolves on the other side of the world, silent today it’s only the saddest lines I loved her, and she loved me too through…

A Sonnet Elegy — The sweetest patch of grey that ever lay before the fire, or in the sunshine, wherever warmth was found. With wanton splay she’d claim a bed, be it wide or confined, making comfort out of concrete, making canned fish into a feast. Breaking silence with snores and statements, an undertaking we understood, heart to heart, so entranced as…

Memory in conversation with the body — Un-personify me Dandelion-like let me scatter and dissolve in the wind blown by breath along my spine from root to crown let that primal draft sound the flute passing registers one by one This interlocking highway of bones, this energy transport let it bend and sway where the deep river draws shallow, where…

St Paul, Revisited, II — I thought the road would rise up to meet me and the wind would remain at my back but it became a whip to beat me It turns out that what I had learned to see became a light that shone on what I lacked all my faults rose with the road…

St Paul, Revisited, I — On a road that I thought I knew smugly convinced this road whose course I firmly knew with my convictions in clear view was evidence in my defense Life showed me roads I never knew Laying awake on a recent night, I composed this poem, half thinking about a conversation…