small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

the changeling

a stone angel
steps down 
from her pedestal—
the burden of wings 
others want her to wear

~A Hundred Gourds 4:2, March 2015

the empty shell
of a phoenix egg
sky blue
among the cinders
of who I used to be

fox, or smiling lion . . .
I rummage
my wardrobe
for this day’s mask

~Ribbons 11:2, summer 2015

Sunday, October 4, 2015

the river

across the river
the tune
my father used to whistle
on summer mornings 

~red lights 11:2, June 2015

no bridge
to that sunlit shore—
the stone
I skip across the river
falls short

~A Hundred Gourds 4:3, June 2015

step by step
I cross the stream 
on a fallen tree—
with open arms I balance 
childhood and old age

~Skylark 3:1, summer 2015

Thursday, August 27, 2015


one wayward iris
with its stem awry . . .
I reread
the scribbled comments
in my high school yearbook

~cattails 3: Sept. 2014

trying to free
a flailing black snake
in yards of bird netting . . .
the snarls of my karma

~cattails 3: Sept. 2014

sell your cleverness
and buy bewilderment—
finds me rapping
on the pawnshop door

~Bright Stars 6, Fall 2014
(Quotation in lines 1 & 2 is from Rumi)

Thursday, July 23, 2015


three nights
I dream of home
with locked doors—
a woman hands me a chart
marking the depths of the sea

my path
littered with the bones
of poems
I couldn’t write . . .
a blackbird whistling

a wren calling
in the piney wood
teacher teacher teacher. . .
I read aloud
from a scarlet leaf

my quarry—
a poem without words 
through the green glade
barefoot as music

a wisp
of thistledown drifting 
before me 
I linger by the brook
to pan for fool’s gold

clear notes
rising from my flute—
the gift
of water flowing
in a life without rain

~Skylark 3:1, summer 2015

Saturday, June 27, 2015


hot pink
handmade signs urge
Open Your Bible . . .
daylilies gone wild
bloom in the summer sun

~Atlas Poetica 20, Jan. 2015

our family values
on a billboard . . .
the homeless man’s sign
reads cancer in the bone

~Atlas Poetica 20, Jan. 2015

Monday, June 22, 2015

the child in me

an amber alert 
on my cellphone
at midnight 
the child in me 
goes missing in the dark

border crossing—
at the foot of the wall
between them and us
a handmade ladder
and a child’s torn shirt

~Atlas Poetica 20, Jan. 2015

Friday, May 29, 2015


an old woman
stoops to weed her poppies—
I glimpse
the sprite of a girl
still dancing inside her

~A Hundred Gourds 3:4, Sept. 2014

changing light—
a splatter of poppies 
at our meadow’s  edge
the silvery ghost
of Monet at his easel

~A Hundred Gourds 3:4, Sept. 2014