Tuesday, Late Summer, in the Blue RidgeAs if five hundred forty-six shades of green existed all at once, on each Appalachian hillside.Jan 6Jan 6
Debits and CreditsI’m ambivalent about space exploration the way I’m ambivalent about scrambledDec 22, 2024Dec 22, 2024
Self-Portrait By NumbersThe graphical format of this poem has been lost due to formatting limitationsDec 2, 2024Dec 2, 2024
ToxicityThe last of a long line of successive actions, I turn on the kitchen light only to find an adult female cockroach attempting to slurp up…Dec 2, 2024Dec 2, 2024
When Spring Winds Are Strong, Wolf Spiders BalloonThey’re up on the branch tips, all eight legs en pointe — one hundred and four chitinous arachnids, their tutus matching leafless twigs…Dec 2, 2024Dec 2, 2024
TorsoMy fingers dance over the slab of Bardiglio, where a bulge calls for stripping layers of finely grained, gray stone so her shoulders may…Dec 2, 2024Dec 2, 2024
Impulse Control IIMy impulse control is wavering like that last blush of flame from the ashes — please help me save myself.Nov 24, 2024Nov 24, 2024