Posts

Crumpled

I cannot keep you
crumpled like a poem
in my chest pocket
you, who will not fold
even to my hand’s pressure

Bridge

the bridge over
an empty riverbed…
my mother offers advice

Portage

old portage path
a chipmunk peeps out
from the fox’s skull

Counting Cars

counting cars
as the train rolls past
a stranger’s wave

blackbird song

blackbird song
as far as the road goes
between the hills

Noon Rush

noon rush...
the spray of river water
on hot concrete