POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
Mom, in Her Dementia, Steals Oranges

and apples, mackintosh mostly, but any kind left in The Pub
at the Assisted Living Place

Me and Other Bodily Accessories

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

REVENGE SCENE

Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.

Dis Place Ment

People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.

Clueless & Briefly Gorgeous

I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.

The love of my life moved from portland to new england

He has stories that I am not in
anymore. It’s healed this way.

Pit Stop in Kansas

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

if detritus is all i’m made up of

my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight,
and there are already way too many fragments in this house

Making Israeli Salad

Now that the Israeli has left, it falls
on me to make the salad.

Unerased | Steep Steps

My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”

Several someones

a folksome, gruesome opera
of gauze and malcontent.

woman at bar
After She Told Me You Pushed Her Down the Stairs

Empty vessels
make the most sound, I think,
as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.

“Artifact,” as Translated from Gluberhöff’s Lexicon

Any still figure at mid-late evening, when the long shadows make even crumbs appear arranged like furniture.

3:17 AM as Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

Finding My Fix

I slumped in front of a massive desk, a passive patient corroded with failure and dread.

love poem with dead leaves & color

I would always rather be happy than
dignified. Rather held than held
in awe.

First

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

Going Broke

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.