I am learning finally how to be vulnerable, how to ask for help, and how to lean on friends and trust that they'll stand steady beneath the weight. I'm coming to this lesson rather late in life, but this is a good step forward. But I've reached a point where I find I need to … Continue reading 3.4.2015


after a poem by Ono no Komachi too soon the bloom has slipped from the stem - a light lost over the deepening sill of evening and back and forth, the beads are slipped slowly down the thread while I wait with the rain


that absence hangs around, a lone note held - b-flat drifting long after the tables have emptied a blind man would have known to find a way away from you but fire makes us stupid and before this space was vacant it. was. on. fire. things are so much clearer when seen in d minor … Continue reading 2.20.2015


there's nothing quite so fine as drinking prison wine sitting on upturned milk crates with an aging Boxer dog and the best red-headed smartass I've ever had the pleasure of not completely falling for - not like all those others some lovers leave and others you just can't shake, but none of that matters - … Continue reading 2.18.2015


I can't forget that day the hummingbird darted through the snow - you slept through it - content with the dogs in a patch of morning sunlight, which found and stroked the red-gold stubble on your cheeks the way I wished that I might without breaking your sleep


I have a pianist's hands - long fingers - straight wrists - and a stretch that spans two notes above the octave a seer once held my hand and foretold three consuming loves, and none would remain by my side - after this last, I consider myself consumed - funny how the life line moves … Continue reading 2.13.2015


snippets from the past few days the snowdrops have been stepped on by some unwary foot - they are closer now to mud than to sky - but the crocus persists and the daffodils are showing their greening tips I had to side-step several puddles of blood on the sidewalk outside the office one morning … Continue reading 2.12.2015


these things cannot yet be called memory - too fresh, too new, too aware of their own being to be relegated to the corners of ponderous afternoons how that spring you sprouted, sudden and furious in the sanctum of breast, winnowing tendrilled assurances around and about these willing ribs until my breath became as entangled … Continue reading 2.10.2015


I was the kid who was forever bringing home strays or baby birds. Some I'd thrust upon neighbors (apparently I was hard to resist), some would hang around, and some unfortunately wouldn't make it. I stopped doing this when I hit about 12 years old. But then in high school, my friend called me with … Continue reading 2.9.2015