A place for news and musings, as well as a spot to post poems and stories when the publication where they originally appeared is no longer available! Enjoy!
Letting God on the train into sunsetmy history is so brittleephemeral and fleeting abandoned power linesstand forgotten marchingforlornly along the tracks old splintered poles tired fromhalf a century have dropped theirwire burdens into the underbrush my eyes don’t focus like they usedto so I lean back like these polestrying to
Excavation They found my fossilized remainswhile excavating a freeway on-ramp.They were encased in volcanicrock, millions of years old.In fact you can still see the site today,abandoned within the cloverleaf of I-89. Of course, after the constructionall that remains is a vague outline—a foot, some hair, a couple teeth.And there isn’t
Emily’s Legacy Emily Dickinson’s sunlit horsesand snakes sliding through the grasslive now on a New England farmwhere they look over bailsof freshly mowed hayand miss their patron terribly The northeast pastoralhas a long memorybut only back to Emilywho shuttered her windowswhen the ladies came to callbut never shooed away the
Distant Thunder I. The First Year Somewhere, off our mountain,the rumors say oldbattles continue. But here the sun is warm,and distant wars meanlittle to hummingbirds. News can be slow to reach us,and harder stillto comprehend. Yes, we know they are dying still.But the planes don’t fly overhere anymore, and although
Business Expenditures I unpack my lustin cheap hotel roomsof cities I’ll never see. I toss him carelesslywith my change and roomkey onto the nightstand, Where my lust sits forgottenas I shower and gaze into thenight, dripping with neon. My fingertips paint runes onclouded glass, and we hearlaughter across the hall.