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”
Tag: love
A Tree. A Rock. A Cloud.
“Son, do you know how love should be begun?”*
Moving backward was the name of the first collection
Of poetry I put together. I was fifteen, and I typed
The poems on half-sheets of paper and arranged them
Inside a full piece of typing paper. Thirty-five years Continue reading “A Tree. A Rock. A Cloud.”
Beasts of Burden, Part 218
Dolphins swim through the moon
Into the sky, sliding into stars
That want to be coral, at least
For a time. Mammals like humans
Dream of dolphins, shaping them
From paper clips and doodling them
Into a life beyond ocean and sky. Continue reading “Beasts of Burden, Part 218”
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”
Breakup Syntax
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”
Seasoning
It was in that time
Of the reddening leaf,
The dot-matrix dance of the grackle,
Sun fade and found hours,
That we met, Continue reading “Seasoning”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 