2 years

time will never heal this wound ravine, canyon the springfield gorge. the clock tends like a nurse caretaker, curator groundskeeper willy. missing him always. wishing for more dreams. clutching my family. better. “god schmod i want my monkey man”

you’re not invited

woke to the sound of my mom’s voicemail…then her broken voice and…nothing. in. between…then my feet on broken glass glossy white paint flawless save the place where…he… a list of my book recommendations sitting on the passenger side my second favorite place to be inside his…still those are some of my favorite books. ________ today […]

the families

where the angle of the trunk allows humans to be silly and reckless stretching out over low levels of occasional rapids high levels of constant laughter look closely to see pin pricks speckling the dirt evidence of the missing conductor cup both ears to hear a deafening orchestra lulling these same humans to sleep on […]

Mix CD’s (not a poem)

i used to make my dad mix cd’s. he loved finding what came to be some of his favorite artists this way. (another connection we had along with plants, cribbage and beer.) the very first album was titled “Daddy & Tweety V1”. of course followed by “D & T V2”. then i started making themed […]

good morning untitled

what happens now save every voicemail not that his tone would have been forgotten but to hear him call me tweety as many times as i can endure the playback save every voicemail not that hers isn’t comforting in the present but just in case doll or babe just in case a way that i […]

snip snip

the magic of a fresh cut i am literally lighter though not by much my shoulders have less to lug my neck has less to nodd my jaw has less to shake the dead ends discarded to the floor some strands sticking to my soft sweater to be cast later with an enchantment spell i […]

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing our volcanos over the dining room table past past now pssst gratefulness oh yeah i forgot that i am lucky. greatness truly. better to have loved and lost…ok but truly. […]

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath! the “honey” helps me to let go not wanting to you are my solid.


is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would say these days when favoritisim has no force but neither do flashing lights or this perfect view chasing in circles and triangular dimensions sprinklers soaking stone instead of lawn the […]

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love for you is wrapped in the strangeness of patterns and rhymes decadent meals and annual martinis our spontaneous brush strokes a good cackle cry on the screened in porch confessions of […]