Marginalia. Poetry from in between, outside, and along the edges.
“It’s also true that I believe poetry … it’s very sacred. It wishes for a community. It’s a community ritual, certainly. And that’s why, when you write a poem, you write it for anybody and everybody. And you have to be ready to do that out of your single self. It’s a giving. It’s always — it’s a gift. It’s a gift to yourself but it’s a gift to anybody who has a hunger for it.” ~Mary Oliver
Can you hold me down?
Am I too much a bellowing unfinished story in your throat One built big from a lifetime of…
Mugwort
We grow from cracks,where sunlight staggers,a patch of silver-green defiance, Studying it, I am beneath the earth’s skin.My…
Spirit
So in love with this mortal coil. So awake inside. Hungry for the sudden arch of birds mapping…
My birthday
Beyond This thing in me, so ancient older then god Inside, it was, above, around always there like…
After the last love
Finally, you stop. This heat sinks thick around you. You collect the broken parts that have returned as…
A second consultation with the surgeon
I gave the surgeon permissionto lift each breastto check each lower boundary My gaze fixed on his face,I…
Dear Adrienne
My floating poem. I found you,the red spine of your poetrytucked in an infantry line of books. You…
No regrets
My father and I walk along Snake Trail Canal,he landed a few days ago with my mom,both rattled…
Courage
I drove often to see her,a terrible ache just above the chest.I would drive for miles, 17 years…
Perfect as you are
After a long whilethe old habits turnbrittle and breakapart. The fear,its soft, aged tendrilsslide off your bonesand you…
When you believed you couldn’t write
This story must begin with your fingers flat against paper dark fingers against darker lines like barbed wire…
That thing you do with your hair
when you put it up precise, absentminded arms raised, head tilted– an inward sway — makes me look…
Talk to me
We will always have stories. Even as we grow accustomed to the mind’sslow silence,we will have them. If…
Meditation
My mind trying to find the easy way out there rather than here the sudden flash of nothing…
Beltline
From Monroe to Irwin, the Beltline gains in elevation. It’s imperceptible. And the stretch back is comfortable, the…
Appalachian Trail
Fire in your wake, you burned, my friend.So much beauty and brokenness here. And where would you go…
Hercules in your heart
Hercules killed his family. As punishment he had to perform twelve labors, which included vanquishing a monstrous serpent …
I heard Christopher Hitchens speak before he died
“Who needs miracles!” he said. “We are made of stardust,that’s miracle enough for me.” I thought he feels…
The dying love of conquistadors
Ours is a petty fightwith city and lights. Such tiny shoulders to wrestle with,and this simple kisslacks courage.…
I catch up
We rent pale blue bicycles in St. Pete. Thick and clumsywith its weight, I lumber up Central Ave.The…
Lucy Lu | February 14, 2003-July 9, 2012
I was told that my dog was still with me.She visits often, I was told. I would see…
Friend
sometimes my lifemoves like poppies downhill young when I was running behind private propertyI ran thinking you followed behindscreamlaughing…
Walk With Me 