The history of my way through water
Does water remember as I make my way across her on this diagonal again? I clear a wake, paddles’ light …
Previous articles
Finding things lost
I no longer trust myself having searched all morning for the missing piece in our endless jigsaw and come up …
My father’s spade
leaning on a box in my cluttered breezeway my father’s spade pants, grip worn smooth, tail twitching, eager for his …
Geraniums (revised, again)
It begins with the scent of geraniums, bitter and hard, and my grandmother telling me not to touch because she …
Birds work all through the night
I don’t know what they do this time of night. I just hear them squawking. And they sound a little …
Day 30
you would think when walking through woods at night that we’d stumble — but instead we learn to find a …
Day 29
walking through woods in bare moonlight – shade over shade, black within black – I see what cannot be seen …
Day 28: And the greatest of these
is love — which is not really fair to say, for the three intertwine when you sit here, ready, and …
Poems from in between 