My Poetry

Wind Storm

the light glorious warms the hours, asking forgiveness for the gale bullying trees and knocking them flat, tearing at ropes, stopping the buzz. the sharp silence inside. the gentle roar outside. ticklish trees and leaves at play swooping and swirling, sashaying and sliding, dipping to descend in a blink, blanketing all beneath. yellow and red:… Read More Wind Storm

My Poetry

Logos in Reserve

My word hoard continues to grow. Soon there will be no room for me. The stack is becoming too big, too teetering, too good-for-someday only. I try to add nothing, try to take nothing. I need the silence, but can’t remember where I put it.   Originally published 24 February 2016

My Poetry

Singing the Chants

My mother held on to the past like she was clutching a baby to her breast, trying to keep it an infant forever. The bone china teacups never broke, never got stained, never got used. The pewter dish, shaped liked the sixties (a wedding gift not to her taste), never left its box or the… Read More Singing the Chants

My Poetry

Perpetual Motion Machine

Well, here we are again. Another tragedy has set the same, tired cycle in motion. Soon enough, it will spin on its own; the secret of perpetual motion will be unlocked. There will be no pauses, breaks, constitutionals, or even slowing. Candles are lit, names are called, insults are flung, pat answers are given by… Read More Perpetual Motion Machine