Let My Hands Too Bring the Day

Let My Hands Too Bring the Day

The red edge of morning, like a razor,slits the dark. No more excuses. TodayI will be sharpened. I will be moremyself as I would be. No espaliered intent—centered, leaning into each momentthe way a ladder leans toward the windowof a burning house; I claim the...
Saint Simone

Saint Simone

She starved herselfthinking about grace.How difficult it was to be nothingbut flesh: prickly, contrarious,pretending to get by on cigarettes and headaches.As a student, she witnessedthe heedless velocity of factories; of campaignspreparing to turn peopleinto things....
The Father

The Father

Your dead father dogs youlike the white mutt that roams along the fishing holes and walksthe edge of gravel roads, sometimes at a trot, most times slow,but with purpose, muscle and sinew protecting old bones. The fatherin silence with pipe clenched between his teeth...
Poetry in the Dark – Sky Park

Poetry in the Dark – Sky Park

There’s a certain kind of serenity to be found at Newport Beach State Park, especially during the off-season in late autumn, when the stone path and forest floor have curled up together under a blanket of leaves. It’s a time of year when the warmth of the afternoon...