Publications & Achievements
Hand-Painted Mailbox
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Two Prose Poems
GUN CONTROL I want the swans back--- the father’s wide beak, the wings spread and beating down into the water, telling the water to stay down, all before leading his wife and two young through the reeds and on to the other side of the Bay. (If I had known, I...
Miscommunication
---A Misreading of Robert Creeley’s “For No Clear Reason”* I dreamt last night the fridge was over, that its large,...
The Healer
One night a group of people sent a woman to my house who wanted to touch everyone. Her skin was dark, the moon’s blue hues on her shoulders. She braided my hair, and all through the night her mouth moved in another language. No sound came from those lips. I...
There is Nothing but Danger Here.
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Misty Mornings: inspired by Thoreau’s Journal
The air is filled with mist, yet a transparent mist, a ...
The Fire of Twenty-Thirteen
It only takes a moment, and then her body burns, the skin lifting away in the shape of leaves---an oak, a willow branch, a maple--- as if she’s known this language for years. She is screaming, she is speaking in tongues, she is a woman lost in dreams. Around...
The Separation
There was a moment when I thought of you, and I longed for water. Two black pitchers laid on the ground in the shadow of what must have been an old well. Their two mouths were crusted with the last snowfall’s ice. Their mouths like two ovals learning how to...
Poem of the Day & Reading Posts
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Book Reviews & Author Interviews
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Past Literary Events
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