wind tangled trees coiling across a yellow moon spiraling leaves surf-curled dunes
I saw their faces as clearly as if… on their stones beneath their name… heard their voices in the trees whose roots go deep into their dus… and into the dust of this Island
The taste of winter ice Dug in August from the sawdust Of Conley’s ice house The slap of the screen door On Grammy’s porch
Many times, my father, drunk upon… “Spare the rod and spoil the child… Swung his belt and lay the stripes… To cleanse my soul. And I, drunk upon memory and whis…
Snowflakes or fireflies Beneath an oval moon Do I wake or dream?
crickets and brittle leaves empty seed pods scurrying in the heavy scent of autumn
death is absence of thought - zen how can we be afraid of something we cannot live to experience? it’s life that is frightening
Pappa always told me that you should never tell all you… and I found it to be good advice I recall the time I got back from… with my winter stores back in ‘39
she watches him as if the fault were in her eyes poor shorn Sampson withered hands grip the canes that barely hold the frail reflect…
GRAVE POEM: EDITH MUDGET… How is it that I, who kept my hou… And, indeed, my life, and the live… Of my family, in perfect order; I, who made the beds before they w…
silent universe solitary traveller a perfect union
Still they knock at my door And complain About the state of the world Selling fear Like grape Kool Aid
crumbling mortar and stone among the trees it stands alone morning glories creep upon the flo… the stair has fallen through the d… the music of summer is in the air
how pathetic to be born without wings such gifts should be for womankind, too
once the larvae have hatched how long can they survive without… each day I go forceps in hand to count the dead