Category Archives: 30 for 30 Poetry Celebration

Two Sleepwalkers On the night she first sleeps with him a back door fills with stars. Out of night-shadow and floor-creak she steps barefoot onto dew-damp grass. The night’s breath frisks her gown. She’s six, then! She lived this dream. … Continue reading →

A Midnight Sonata When one by one all the shops have closed alongand the night is a muslin turning blue anonThere’s a misty air that says it’s getting late The town has gone to sleep and the stars have left … Continue reading →

Dionysian Dreamscape Meander along a geometric path. Tetrahedrons sprout from rectangular prisms, each triangular side equilateral. Enter this abstract fantasy world, follow curvilinear lines, concentric circles, a natural purple geode agate slice. Skate the coping, drop in to an amethyst … Continue reading →

On the Boulevard This is not London, Vilnius or Athens. Nothing is new or old among the mistimed traffic lights, or the neat sidewalks that crumble along rows of rezoned apartment buildings. An on-ramp curves and banks. Vehicles sputter, then … Continue reading →

Inamorato Once, in front of the house, cardinal on a wire before dawn. He, red, the color of danger, anger, or iniquity, thinks of perhaps leaving for lower heights, some widowed female on an old tree branch, both browned by … Continue reading →

Poem as Nature Walk Those aren’t scarlet berries on the willow leaves; they are parasitic wasps in camouflage. Pine trees prune themselves to get rid of branches that fail to find enough sunlight to survive. Bees see green as gray; … Continue reading →

Love and a Reimagined Mill Swamp Road Some wit with a Sharpie has turned the traffic sign’s yellow spot into a Pac-Man gobbling up the incline. Real lights can’t play the game. Go, stop, yield—nothing left to chance or judgment. … Continue reading →

Threshold This grass so rainlacked I can hear the ghosts of my selves step with me. Splintering blades echo. snap my neck again and again. The distance between myself and my front door has never been so vast nor strike … Continue reading →

Swinging in the Big Easy The neon looked like lipstick on the wet street the streetcar rattled and sang rattled and sang somewhere a trumpet and tuba sing sweetly there she was expectant not waiting heart full on Frenchmen Street … Continue reading →