Month: May 2013


After the painting La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Sir Frank Dicksee  But it is not me –not me in that painting. John Keats was ever alone and destined To die young—he was consumed, Consumed—I tell you—with disease Not me. And yet.

Merlin at Lessons

He rarely listened to what I taught but that is the way. A true teacher learns early that insisting the student listen is the surest way to uninsure it. I would be deep into Lao Tze’s treatise on warfare, and he would be drawing…

The Necessary

When I was a little girl, We had houses of shade Spaced along the road Where the sycamores And elms waved to us, Their branches longer Than time, leaves wider Than space, our hearts Scary with sunshine Too explosive to contain.


As a girl I gathered the gooseberries effortlessly and helped my mother bake the pies. I knew just how much sugar was needed for the berries—and I could sense their taste by lightly squeezing them and measure the tautness or softness against the sugar….

Little Town Life

The downside of growing up in a small town is that everyone knows you and your business. The beauty of growing up in a small town is that everyone knows you and your business. I grew up in Locust Grove, a northeastern Oklahoma town…

Morgeuse Without Silence

Stone walls and the shouting of men Flibberty flibberty flibberty Into this starved air Bells thudding hollow cracking He is waiting She is sure Low rumbling dogs unsure Paws clicking fish bones Flibberty Coming back Place of never was