Month: June 2013

Windmill Water

I carry a glass bottle of water from home When I go out. My well water is better than bottled, Better than anything of purchase. After leaving The Great Salt Plains, apocalyptic desert Of salt and crystal, my bottle was empty.

The Meaning of Grasp

The debris of white paint flecks in the golden hair Of your arms is the garbage of love and light –garbage whose original meaning was a “handful,” A “grasp.” So I will grasp your arm, your hand, Your chest, your body, and decorate myself…


The place where I found to rest was thick With chamomile. I lay my head against its spongy, Fragile stems and closed my eyes to the ants Intoxicated by the scent, climbing toward heaven, Or what an ant can know of it. Soft, soft….

I Have a Scary Story-Poem for You!

Howl of coyote, whimper of mouse, Rustle in the grass near the poison oak. Do you hear what she hears when you go out? What’s in the silence between each frog’s croak? Down by the pond where the creatures come Ghosts in the air…

Poems for Tornado Victims

Some very well-meaning people are soliciting poems for a poetry anthology to sell to raise funds for Oklahoma tornado victims. Please don’t.  Material Reason  Say you manage to sell 100 of these books. The cost of making and shipping them will take up the…