Two Truths & A Lie

  My future & my past are essentially the same: whether it is me or her riding in the back seat, I still have to ask permission of my mother or daughter if I can go anywhere. I traded in my happiness like a receipt for defective batteries, & the world keeps turning without me….

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In a Field, The Absence of Field

  or heart—like breathing, you enter waist-high grasses, the tan of prairie dog, fern, wild lily, & the wind takes you up into itself, your body curves & sways with the grasses, canvas, Magritte of the field & passing. How you ended up here, you are unsure, but you arrived wearing nothing but air, &…

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I Treat Your Swollen Ankle

  propped on a pillow on our oversized coffee table, all of our ice packs                    lost in the move, & I try to talk to you about my impending job loss, another poem rejected by a favorite magazine, & you fill the room with pleasant thoughts…

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Oregon, Columbine, October, November, December—

  I think of you, fellow teacher, and I fear what lies on the other side of the door, the window, the rain. What power lies in waiting, what anger, what brown paper bag concealing fire. I lean back in my desk chair and make myself a little smaller, blend into the fibers. We are…

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I Will Vandalize His Angel Tombstone

                      And it is from this moment that you are going to live. Think of that. You’re standing in the middle of what used to be a cornfield,           now pocketed with headstones and wire, combing out a space that says this is where we lay           our dead, take whatever you want. You have changed: you…

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First, She was a Poem: Cadence on the Swings

  I had a bit of a moment today, and I really have to share. In the picture to your left is my beautiful, nine-and-a-half-month old daughter, Cadence (yes, like the title), and she had her first turn on a swing today—one of those little, infant-safe ones on a backyard playground set. And then it…

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My Attempt at a Definition Poem while Reading Allan Peterson

  This is why I love reading: it opens so many doors. While reading Allan Peterson’s Precarious (published by 42 Miles Press, 2014), I began to consider less-than-common terms, synonyms that are so interesting and unique that we often do not use—for instance, why use the term “precarious” when we could just as easily say…

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The Manger

  Merry Christmas, Everyone! Whether or not you’re a believer, I hope you enjoy your day with friends and family, build a snowman or stay inside by the fire. Here’s a new poem to read while you drink something warm.   THE MANGER   For years I lived across the street from a house, come…

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Caterpillar Towns

  consider their bodies—each separate bead a head—the string of brains arch like drumming fingers, or rather, the knuckles. survival in a smaller form. like a child pouring out onto a table, the wide mouth of an incision, a closed door. you left me open there, leaves & breath. Puddles Pity Party like a dream…

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Solar Panels

  You said we were a senseless pairing—the earth and moon—what if someday the earth falls out of love?   Then the moon will fall into, into—   We were waiting for a train, heads under the tunnel eve, rain pouring down, we were reaching out—   what if the earth falls out of love…

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