For An Evening
the window is open to the sound of the water sighing the light from the waning moon speaks softly to the corner table you left a glass by the kitchen sink pale pink tracing the line where your lips had been by A.M. Clarke …
the window is open to the sound of the water sighing the light from the waning moon speaks softly to the corner table you left a glass by the kitchen sink pale pink tracing the line where your lips had been by A.M. Clarke …
Everything A woman in Frankfurt whisked me off Taunusstrasse when I was eighteen, vowing that if I bought her a drink, we could go directly to her room upstairs and “do everything.” Though I knew little then of the expanse being offered, what crisscrossed the hitherto lofted mind were the likes of bodice and…
The Bedside Book of Antique Maps We all fray and tear a bit, our bodies more and more like maps with worn edges, that crazy serpent that threatened the world, now a sketch threatened by the margin’s inward drift, that erosion, that whole world pushing back into us. We…
Find Me Find. Find me. Find me a place. To call home. No. No one. No one likes to be alone. Find. Find me. Find me a place. Where I can see. Offer. Offer me. Offer me some space where I can be me. Give. Give me. Give me a choice. Wake. Wake me….
Summer after chlorine saturated summer we pretended we were cholitas, twelve year old lambs in disguise. I wore swap-meet Adidas breakaways over unshaved legs and blue gray Venice Dolphin’s swimsuit. Seventeen, our lieutenant, tiptoed lightly, a damp towel tightly wrapped around her curves, sang Mariah Carey’s Fantasy. She’s Mary’s baby, her…
To the Man Who Was to Be My Gardening Companion for Fifty Years You used to love that I see the fierce beauty in a little chaos. I first cleared that web of woodiness cautiously. I pruned instead of hacked the curious entanglement of Greenbrier and Wisteria. The roots seemed to reach as deep as…