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A Place With No Name
“They tell me you are wicked and I believe them…”
— Carl Sandburg, “Chicago”
This is place with no name,... more »
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America
I am a sick nation
a spiteful nation
the man underground
has nothing beneath me... more »
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America, America
I am a strong nation
I wield power
to the right
to the left and back... more »
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Cocoon
Despite transparent walls
the caterpillar
chews asclepsia
a regimen... more »
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Grandfather
Gazing at the still
white body
I half-expect
water colored eyes... more »
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Jon Bigawn
You, Spoon River, with your thirsty
whirls tried to swallow my only son
you pulled him, eyes shocked, under your
surface, shot him back up for that final... more »
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Little Boys
Society removes their nerves
pulls them out one long slim string at a time
then their hearts
eaten in stews and soufflés... more »
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Luke
I picture you
legs bent
feet on your highs
their permanent resting place... more »
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One Blue Buffalo (Sestina)
Snow swirled and blew over the plain
the minutes melted into hours
the frosted buffalo stood still
solid against the breath of time... more »
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Our Father
Our father who
aren’t in heaven
or hell
dear brother... more »
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Snowstorm
1
Sheets of white
fight like schoolboys... more »
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Spring Sestina
it’s nearly noon and the sun slices
through the thick spring fog, dark
with winter’s gloom, heavy with fatality:
the spent daffodil’s bloom, the cut... more »
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Stolen Feathers
1
Eight yellow legs
bent and motionless... more »
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The Baby Girl Speaks To The Spoon
Momma was a girl, only twelve.
Daddy was an old man. He run
moonshine. His business, he said.
Momma was also his business.... more »
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Thistle
insipid grape
flowers
kiss
black and yellow... more »
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Tripping
I float in
the Atlantic
and wake
up north... more »