My poem in the new Grieve Anthology August 2021

Mine is just dentistry, thus I can pray for my oldest friend I lack the faith of doorknobs or roadsthe steadfast purity in purposean exhibit of solid testimonybetween before during now and afterhow hands or rain or dust cannot shakethe utility of being so no minor inconvenience for directionno reason to look beyond or underbut … Continue reading My poem in the new Grieve Anthology August 2021

A new poem in Burrow Bi Annual

Cleaning the gutters, advent each handful carries its own risksfrom such fallow rustingwandering ashes meant for seakidnapped by an idling wind, the journey of leaves delayedin the stalled gravity of Autumnbeetle husks within dreamroof nails departing purpose, desiccated chicks abandonedconcerto de Aranjuezthrough an open windowforehead above to weatherboard, debris falling to obeisancesideways gusts push for … Continue reading A new poem in Burrow Bi Annual

Two of my poems from the newly released Lothlorien Poetry Journal Volume 2

No compass for wrack They say, in the north countryrain has lost its bearingsand wanders seeking a daughteror son to remember the touchof earth on cheek and knee.How bones, out of kilterkeep clear of steeping gulchand scry for penance in feldsparweigh each measure of lossto shy at every consequence.Deep south, the indifferent skycurls back a … Continue reading Two of my poems from the newly released Lothlorien Poetry Journal Volume 2

The Fencer and the Sunset: Eight Bars for Broken Strings

                                                 The ripped wire is back up uncurled recycled twice the effort for half the result(I hear the scent of you smiling in the fragrant drapery of the orange tree),but happy doing the right thingwitnessed by how much the disinfectant stings my hands All those cuts for a little comfort and of course pleasurein some resurrection … Continue reading The Fencer and the Sunset: Eight Bars for Broken Strings

Afghanistan, a rose grew

the glimmer catches your breatha thorn to the reachyet how that light entertainedpalm and wrist in stretchto think to encompassthose petals of beingrestrain these swathed elementariesvenetian in wander and stasisthe prick as you toucha hand withdrawn from colourso certain of consequencegasp now as primaries splinterone hue in keening refrainflickers within a closingthe burdens so heavy … Continue reading Afghanistan, a rose grew