2025.02
Choreography, Adverbially
2025.02.11
Write
Thoughts on what was done to make this tag... from a Poet's POV
2025.02
A Tangible Friend
2025.02.04
2025.01
The Instrument
2025.01.30
2025.01
The Sun Thinks You're Important
2025.01.28
2025.01
For What Might Be
2025.01.27
2025.01
Stuff for the Dark
2025.01.22
2025.01
The Dream's Picture
2025.01.03
Poems
Frost's Shooting Range
Rode around Frost's farm.
Poems
Beats, Slams, and Yes, I Am(s)
We call it poetry for the ear, But that’s not where we hear it. We call it poetry out loud, But it’s an inside job. We call the meter measured. We call the measure divine. I call the words: All Words! Sweet- Sweet -Tweet-Tweet Twitter-Tatter- Beat-
Poems
Good Neighbor, Frost
If the sky and the horizon bent properly, I could see those paper barked birches. Autumn -swung and knocked- swung and knocked Oak and ash and spruce and pine and even Evergreens Grumbled. Fat chirping squirrels bent trunks down. Elasticity whip snapped shot them back up. I crooked my neck
Poems
All of Her Poetry, Still
I didn’t know Mary was dead. (No one told me about Maya, either) A blank Pause when I read about it online. Poets don’t go out when we die. (We live with Death while we live.) We stay home. Which is why when Walt said to me (The