Up or down, it’s all the same.
How the knee or hip strains under the planet’s
surge. Opposite, and unequally felt.
One knows pain, the other does not.
Forever spinning, we remain still,
moving in place. Wanting.
As the heart pumps,
stronger for its labor,
accustomed to the effort.
On the Burden of Flowering
Even the cactus wren
to the task,
though it rarely listens
to my voice. How do clouds
blossom day to day
and leave so little
behind? The bookless shelf
begs to be filled, but instead
I watch the morning age
as the sun arcs higher.
Yesterday you said
the mint marigold
was dying. Today it
stands tall. Yellowing.
“On the Burden of Flowering” first appeared in
Panoply in August 2016, and is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second .
Posted in From Every Moment a Second, Poetry |
Tagged acceptance, chapbook, creative writing, life, nature, philosophy, poems, poetry, questions, relationships, writing |
The Bitter Celebrates
Mention gateways and mythologies
and I see openings to paths
better left unseen. No choice is
but preparation leads us astray as well.
Take this bitter leaf.
Call it arugula.
Call it rocket.
Call it colewort or weed.
Dress it with oil and vinegar,
with garlic and lemon.
Add tomato, salt.
Though you try to conceal it,
the bitterness remains.
But back to gates and myths. Do they truly
lead us out, or do we
circle back, returning
to the same endings
Remove the snake, rodents return.
Seal the hole.
Take this leaf.
Voice those words.
Close that door.
“The Bitter Celebrates” first appeared in
Amethyst Review in December 2018.
Posted in Poetry |
Tagged creative writing, food, life, mindfulness, mythology, nature, philosophy, poems, poetry, relationships, writing |
My poem “Every Drop” appears in the latest edition of
Tiny Seed Literary Journal . Many thanks to Emily Cayer and the Tiny Seed editorial staff for publishing this piece.
Posted in nature, Poetry |
Tagged creative writing, gardens, life, love, mindfulness, nature, poems, poetry, relationships, writing |
If You Drop Leaves
If you drop leaves when she walks by,
does that signify grief for those
cut down early,
or merely drought?
How easily we abandon and forget.
Yet a whiff of lemon verbena or the light
bouncing from a passing Ford
can call them back,
tiny sorrows ratcheted in sequence
above the cracked well casing
but below the shingles
and near the dwindling shade
tracing its outline on the lawn.
And what do you whisper
alone at night within sight
of sawn and stacked siblings?
Do you suffer anger by way
of deadfall or absorption,
bark grown around and concealing
a penetrating nail, never shedding
tears, never sharing one moment
with another. Offered condolences,
what might you say? Pain earns no
entrance. Remit yourselves.
* * *
“If You Drop Leaves” was published at
in November 2017. Many thanks to editor Emily Corwin for taking this piece. Bad Pony
Posted in nature, Poetry |
Tagged creative writing, life, literature, nature, perception, poems, poetry, reading, relationships, trees, writing |
My poems “Self-Portrait as Never” and “The Real Question” are live at
. I’m grateful to editor Michael Prihoda for accepting these pieces. After the Pause
Life among the Prickly Pear
Rain’s twofold curse: not enough
too much. Still, I take comfort
even among the thorns.
There is much to like here.
Its moonlight flowers.
Paddles fried with minced garlic.
Wren’s jubilant shriek.
The fruit’s red nectar.
I wake to distant screech owls
purring their desires on separate
slopes. Late spring, storms looming.
I close my eyes and the creek rises.
* * *
A draft of this first appeared here in June 2015, and I posted this version in May 2016. I’ve had to deal with a flooded creek recently…
In the meantime, two of my guitar heroes:
Posted in Poetry, Texas |
Tagged creative writing, life, nature, observation, poem, poems, poetry, Texas, weather, writing |