Tuesday, March 23, 2010


I don't think much about how poetry comes to me. It just shows up. I feel lucky if I have a pen handy. Nothing worse than getting the first line and not having anywhere to write it down so the rest can come too. Once in awhile, though, the first few lines come and then . . . nothing. It doesn't finish itself. Thought I would share a few partials that haven't formed themselves into anything (yet).


Hope is like the ocean
wide and rolling
even when we cannot see


I need either more pain or less
or someone to make me feel
like I felt with you
afire and gasping,
like new chemicals


Maybe I can sweep it
into that pile of
romantic notions
left dusty on the floor


Friday, March 12, 2010


The things you touch,
like Dust that falls from your fingertips,
glow in unearthly stings
of light and webbing
and bind me,
umcomparable, unseeing.
A single web enough
to cave my sonorous thoughts of love
and settle,
unearthed in the shallow soil,
waiting for spring.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Air and Molecule

I would like the world to be quiet,
for silence to descend like snow,
thick, layered, incapacitating.

I would like the sky to be black,
to consume me in its darkness,
to feel only my breath as it leaves.

I would like truth to be turned
like a lover's face to their heart,
as if nothing could stop the turning.

I am only air and molecule,
quark and electron.
I am only orbiting mass,
destined to burn.

I am only without you in this silence,
only apart from you in this darkness.
There is no turning, no lover,
only space.