Poetry

Poetry |

“By Rote”

“An oak tag string of ABCs   / Block style hangs above the blackboard.  / Chalk dust tinges the letters of the law.  / Diligently, a small girl copies …”

Poetry |

“Felled Oak”

“For you, an eyesore, for me, an object / of light and form dignified by age // and trust, weathered or beaten, but there — / as if it would have reason to stay, // as if I had cause to see it as lovely.”

Poetry |

“Summer, So Full”

“falcons coasting / on updrafts, / bougainvillea in bloom / and the dark high-res / glimmering indigo …”

Poetry |

“Today My Mother Called to Apologize”

“Nothing else — she wanted to hang up / immediately after. She is 92. I am 64. / When I was 3, she put me in a diaper / to punish me for an accident.”

Poetry |

Poems from “The Lisa Sequence”

“… The last hour waiting / for clemency that does not come, telephone deadly still, petition / ignored.  Last shifting its meaning from final to endure.”

Poetry |

“Duncan Farm November Meditation”

“what died with father / what died with mother / there was more i wanted to know / say again the names of distant places / russia   lithuania    ukraine”

Poetry |

“Maybe the Messiah”

“Maybe the Messiah not coming is proof enough, Kafka chalks / across the board, that God exists. He’s subbing my eighth-grade / math class …”

Poetry |

“To the Last Bottle in the Back of My Fridge”

“I can quit whenever I want. / But not today, not now, / when you have just coaxed me onto a table / at the bar and now I am spiraling / out of sync with the music.”