A universal, poetic confession of the Nicene Creed. The third poem in a series. Continue reading Credo III — “One God”
fractured skies weeping
prisms slinging paint
we run inside to safety Continue reading “…the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn;”
I stand with an unfocused stare
at the ground and the bleeding bird
surprised by my aim and the weight
of the gun pulling down my right arm
surprised by the woman who runs
from the porch at the front of her house. Continue reading Woodpecker
Whitewashing trees in heavy coats,
The talons of the blackbird shift and crunch
And, seeking our flesh, find purchase.
The mind is a tree with no leaves,
A home to birds and squirrels and clusters of insects.
It is a perfect specimen, carved with initials and hearts and absolutes. Continue reading Blackbird Antiphon
He stood in the brief twilight
and counted a thousand fireflies.
Or—I couldn’t tell—he counted the same firefly
each time it painted the air with its cold light. Continue reading Lux Noctis
Long goodbyes have a Twinkie shelf life.
Don’t give me that look next time.
I forget the evening paper on the front step.
It is wet with dew by morning. Continue reading Notes Taken While Listening to “Blue in Green”
who could ever love like that
impossible flight Continue reading “Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.”