Poem Up at The Night Heron Barks
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Tag Archives: questions
Somehow Dawn
Somehow Dawn
I don’t know what to say. Or how.
Feeling that I am on the upslope,
not close. Not wrong. I want
to be that hollowed space
in the hackberry’s trunk,
the calm of darkened light.
And more. Some honey, dripped
from the spoon. A house finch,
fluttering. I will whittle my losses,
carve out needs. She will tell me
the history of our days. She will
smile, engrave her initials on my
chest. Somehow, the birds still
sing. Somehow, dawn trickles in.
“Somehow Dawn” was first published in August 2019 at Vox Populi. I am grateful to Michael Simms for his support, and am thrilled to be a regular contributor to this lively publication.
Dry Well
Dry Well
I trace the symbols.
In the dirt, among the grubs and crooked
weeds. Writing of loss. Of missing things.
Wondering if words will fill my mouth
with wool or grit. With pebbles and salt.
If truth is what I want.
* * *
“Dry Well” first appeared in Vox Populi in August 2019. I’m grateful to editor Michael Simms for his steadfast support.
Poem Up at Book of Matches
My poem “Letter to Hamrick from the Century of the Invalidated” has been published in the inaugural issue of Book of Matches. Thank you, editors Kelli Allen and Nicholas Christian, for taking this piece. This is a fantastic new litmag, featuring such luminaries as Clare L. Martin, Eric Pankey, Jeff Santossuosso, Kelli Russell Agodon, Jack Bedell, Megan Wildhood, Lauren Camp and others. Try it, you’ll like it!
Poem Up at Panoply
My poem “Spider” has been published in Issue 17 of Panoply. Many thanks to editors Andrea, Jeff and Ryn for including this piece, and for supporting my work over the past five years. I am truly grateful.
The End of Something
The End of Something
I would never pin this silence
to a board, but her anger tempers
sunset, and my response remains
contained. The paper stars
I nailed to the bookcase rustle
when the door opens. She
swallows wine, I sip tea
and offer no explanations.
“The End of Something” first appeared in Volume 3 of Lamplit Underground. Thank you, Janna Grace, for taking these pieces.
Lamplit Underground is a beautifully illustrated publication. Please take a look!
Worms
Worms
Yesterday’s cored apple buzzes with light,
another vessel stored in sadness.
I have swallowed vows.
I have replaced air with earth
and enjoyed tongued flesh.
To think is to live. To live is to delay.
Burrowing through the soil’s rich
decay, this body,
accepted. Absorbed.
“Worms” was first published in Rue Scribe in September 2018.
End of the Road, CR 245
End of the Road, CR 245
How the day’s fragments fade. One cloud,
a leaf. The horned toad scuttling across
the path. I am wondering what lies
beneath the flimsy topsoil, whether grubs
or beetles linger in their perpetual nights.
If I overturn that rock, will a scorpion’s tail
rise? Thunder strums my roof as I look
through the streaked window. Nothing
changes. You wanted that separate
peace, the one kept boxed in the drawer
for safekeeping. Foolish for having once
believed, for remaining in disbelief,
I step out into the rain, lift the rock.
“End of the Road, CR 245” was published in fall 2019 in the print anthology Through Layered Limestone: A Texas Hill Country Anthology of Place. I am grateful to editors d. ellis phelps, Lucy Griffith, Darlene Logan, Donna Peacock and Mobi Warren for taking this and three other pieces.
Awaiting Thunder, He Dreams
Awaiting Thunder, He Dreams
If all our voices were to meet in the atmosphere
what could the rain achieve?
When we give nothing we have nothing.
Is it enough to listen?
Wisps and heaps, ripples and sheets.
Accumulated, dispersed, fingers
unknotting death’s
grip, steps taken around the flames,
in caution, in delight,
imagining the greatest undoings.
“Awaiting Thunder, He Dreams” was first published in Red River Review, in August 2018.
Self-Portrait as Question
Self-Portrait as Question
Walking hand-in-hand with what,
who presupposes why, and when
huddles with where before skittering
off to its murky corner. Sometimes
I present myself as a shy minute
or a cloud’s effigy streaming across
a scruffy field. Few suspect the truth.
Answers ricochet from the limestone
wall, but no one nabs them. I react
quickly and offer the unknown, the
life I claim, my name, in return.
* * *
“Self-Portrait as Question” was first published in Rue Scribe in September 2018. Many thanks to Eric Luthi and the editors at Rue Scribe for accepting this piece and several others.
O at the Edges 