• When the Cold

    When the cold

    moves

    in

    to the alcoves

    between your toes

    and stays there

    like trouble

    all

    night,

    sleep comes

    recommending deeper

    dreams.

    The capacity to feel

    is mightier than

    boredom.

    I walk

    along the right

    leg of endeavor

    toward the belly

    of compromise

    where

    I’ll stop

    and surreptitiously

    tickle

    the business

    acumen of animal.

  • Vocation

    Building the ark

    of my offspring

    to carry me

    on a cooing

    through every dark.

  • Composeur

    How many shins

    must weakness show

    for a shoo-win,

    is creeky math;

    powerful though.

  • The Neverending West

    Lackawanna

    sign across the

    Hudson River,

    shining through a

    crack in resolve.

  • Darning the Interval

    The conjecture of a form

    is a cage where chaos preys

    on implicitly the walls

    with overt fingers.

  • Flubbing My Lines


    When the vision was

    gone, I could still smell its tune

    in the air.


    I had been afraid

    of almost everything but

    the supernatural, until then.

  • Plan B

    All the key

    words

    on the ring

    have been tried,

    and the good

    remains

    locked

    on Gulliver’s

    side. I have

    a frontrunner

    in mind

    for the part

    of

    avalanche

    chaser

    in

    a thought

    experiment,

    who

    might

    also keep

    trees.

    The water,

    before it seas,

    carries the name

    of every rose

    we lose

    to the news.

  • Winter Wist

    I’m too well-scarved

    to even speak,

    so I bow thank

    you to the pique

    of wonder carved.

  • Inner Piece

    After the war

    a soldier wears

    an amber skin,

    her frozen core

    shuddering still.

  • Project X

    The trailmix is almost gone

    and I have a big blister,

    and we are completely lost

    in the beautiful.