Poems

My breasts once wept at the first musings of a strangers hunger-smacking lips, a pursed, round strawberry and wet with the taste of milk still on the tongue…

On edge of a razor-guarded campus, Marigolds tower to meet drooping pines. Though unaware as cheerful children, Dry Texas earth spells death for them both.

Displayed within, life’s moments extrapolated, tangible anguish, remnants of sorrow. With haphazard intent, encapsulated vestiges scattered…

Fifty feet of nylon line and a milk jug stretched across the bay. Twenty hooks, mostly trebles, hung waiting; chicken liver and dough balls luring them in.

To your villa they come– the sketchbooks, the cameras, parade past your clay mugs and plates, black lace mantillas that covered your legs, white wooden bed…

On the same bittersweet day | I gave each a name | And loved each alike.| On the same bittersweet day, | I rocked a crib | And commissioned a grave.

Tell me, in all your travels, have you ever seen the origin of the universe unfold before your eyes? I have… once. At night, a night on the Oregon coast.

Shamon, don’t give up. The stones are already in place, we merely need to step— One at a time. Don’t slip. Your shadow is only your low-hanging cape.
Onto it, sew your doubts.