When I first started having my high school students participate in Poem in Your Pocket Day, they thought I was nuts. Carry a poem around in my pocket for a day? What? Take it home and read it to people? What? Have them sign the back of the poem? What? Continue reading “It’s In Your Pocket!”
Each morning has stopped being the same
Though the dogs don’t pronounce this.
It’s something in the sound of the car
Responding to my touch, something
In the sleep left in my waking bones. Continue reading “Without”
In Dead Grass
In the field of dead Johnson grass,
The red-winged blackbird landed.
It swayed the desert-colored stalks
With its weight, then held its place.
Like a swollen tick plucked from a dog
Then dropped, it did not move.
From this distance, I could not see
What suspended it there, what attraction.
If I Met Her
When he told me about the girlfriend
Who had to be choked to get off,
I felt my heart sinking, even
When he added that he couldn’t do it. Continue reading “If I Met Her”
He liked to be at the end
Of sentences, the most definite
Punctuation, preferably a period,
Though a colon was good
And so was a semicolon
But not a dash and definitely
Not a comma. He would stand Continue reading “Breakup Syntax”
Talk to me. But better yet,
Talk to yourself. Listen
To the words your body
Resists and just wait,
Let the syllables rest
In your armpits and nostrils
And in the webby secrets
Between your fingers. Wait Continue reading “Pulling Away”