Poems

That time you are eight, and you trip crossing the road, and almost get hit by the oncoming traffic. Your mother yells at you, and you hear the animal in her voice…

Alone on a mesa, a pink crabapple tree embraces the wind, its branches reaching up and out like a menorah, its petite blossoms a pointillist image…

I remember. Finding you, there seeing you lay so still The air itself dared not to disturb. your frail body, So still…”

Ex-husband with new woman; This one counts. Words of admiration Roll off his well-kissed lips. He gushes her accomplishments. We’ve been here before.

Writer works to get under skin, doc rushes through gore he bathes within… Shrieking from someone else’s…

Big mama said she’s plum gone there’s no more chunky, copper moon walking over her head she reserves the right to wear white…

Between lush manicured lawns and dense sheared hedges I walk slowly up the curved path to the wall near the relief sculpture tall as a juniper tree…

I remember the fire trucks with all the lights flashing and the noise and the woman screaming down the street. I was six, the teachers whispered nervously…