The Timid Poet Microphone passes hand to hand around the anthology of poets hoping to impress with words that dance and sing, confound reason and pierce hearts. Tinder photos and book jacket head shots promise good times, fun and adoration,… Continue Reading →
If I were a turtle I would bask all day in the hot sun on my favorite log. If I got too warm I’d burrow deep down into the river bed mud. When I was hungry I would catch a… Continue Reading →
Guts a Tumble Sometimes it stalks, hurricane building for days. Sometimes it slinks, thief in night without warning. You catch its sweaty stench just before it descends the way a deer smells danger or sailors perceive storms in the wind…. Continue Reading →
Forest bathing I. … is what the Japanese call a walk in the woods with no agenda, no news of tyrants and atrocities. Embrace oak’s gruff coat, birch’s papery veneer, soak in ancient wisdom of quiet community knowing nothing of… Continue Reading →
The End Times (after Asher ReTech’s “Loss for Words”) I stumbled upon the falling-down cabin, abandoned and strewn with decades of rubble, little chunks of struggle and pain, adventure and joy and I return every year to check if… Continue Reading →
homo tuberosum Don’t we envy cats who lounge carefree on couch-backs? Yet disdain the human rooted in worn cushions, nestled under wooly blanket on a chill morn, tools of trade arrayed: TV remote, laptop, diet Dew. Tubers thrive underground coffined… Continue Reading →
That moment when This land where shilly meets shally is popular with tourists, although there are still some that prefer to run headlong through briars. On every street corner you’ll find the silence between words, pauses to breathe and reconsider… Continue Reading →
Turtle Spotting Somehow, spotting turtles basking on fallen logs justifies a lazy sun-burnt afternoon kayaking the Kalamazoo. At home, a little plastic turtle lazes on my clock radio, memento once possessed by the now departed church matriarch admired for both… Continue Reading →
Desire An impulse, light pressure to fingertips and words form and de-form. The poet, biologist of desire, seeks to discover, to understand life in the vacuum of the heart, sculpts the page, asking it the age-old, or perhaps old age… Continue Reading →
I Know (After the image “Floating” by Betsy Mars) The sleeping woman, posed in her sun dress, barefoot, arms tucked into chest, legs drawn up, exudes peacefulness. But as my gaze drops upon her, I perceive the abyss over which… Continue Reading →
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