Pilgrim Hawk The library ripples as if dispossessed when it sees the peregrine weltering over the city, sparking hammer on a gray anvil sky: Won’t you come down quicker…
-
-
These poems are excerpts from the author’s book project Buena Vista. Told through a collection of flash fiction, short plays, lists, letters and essays, Buena Vista loosely chronicles the author’s journeys…
-
* * * When I Was a Bird I had the smallest bones I could breaststroke on the smooth back of evening I had no particular anger Sometimes I made…
-
* * * One Santa Clara summer day, in my apartment, the stone cat stared at a plastic rose against a sky so white the window seemed to fog. And…
-
— For Sam Draemon Sleep Out Loud Not twins Exhaustion & Sleep Come birds — land on my arm — and show me the rest of flight …
-
Scattering the Locks I. She’s humming on the porch swing: Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I’ll Fly Away Her hair hangs like a long dark mystery waist…
-
Zunzún Disambiguation I caught a glimpse of tremulous wings beside the straggling Rose of Sharon— long tiny bill wide purple bloom and my full hands cupping dripping eggshells in slow…
-
* * * Bird Rhythms I sat, twenty minutes, watching a flock of birds fly in patterns. What could we understand if there were not the birds’ songs to guide…
-
The starlings come at 11:00. They leave. They return. They leave. Every departure is as complete as the one before. An escape from certain death. And every return—I don’t know…
-
* * * I Do Not Have Wings I am deciding, today, how it will feel to be disowned. A black and blue butterfly has just landed in paint run-off…
-
(excerpt from an in-progress biopunk speculative poetry manuscript titled Aeolia) * * * Earth has birds. In training they taught us: avoid metaphor, acronym, deflect questions, use only words that don’t…
-
She headed for a clump of weeds when we appeared. Her wing hung down too low, sagging while she walked, big and black, considering. She gauged the distance to the…
-
If you asked a male white-breasted nuthatch in the Middlesex county area about me, I’m confident he’d tell you that I run a hell of a bird feeder. Or, at…
-
I went out for a walk on Easter morning, and all the houses in The Nice Neighborhood had their windows open wide with the scent of French Toast wafting out.…
Newer Posts