“un-memories”

  In my latest book, The Comet’s Tail: A Memoir of No Memory, I ponder the nature of memory–what we remember, what we forget, how our identities are built by and shaped by memories.  While I can’t recreate any single memory into a perfect film of the past, I can stare at the open sky of […]

Escaping the hook

I’m looking forward to an upcoming post-Christmas family reunion. Here is one of my favorite poems from Potato Eaters, my first chapbook from Finishing Line Press. The photo, too, is one of my favorites, found in an attic box years ago. That’s my mother, on the right, and two of her brothers on the left. […]

Not entirely idle

Happy Fall! Here’s a poem from Nomad’s End, published by Finishing Line Press. Purchase a personalized signed copy of the chapbook by clicking here . I’ll pick up the shipping! Occupation of Autumn Afternoon on the last day of September begins with sun shifting across the tiara of sky. The equinox has passed and autumn carefully […]

Late Comers

A poem from Nomad’s End, published by Finishing Line Press, 2010. Amateurs What logic is in the spray of water on our faces as the speed boat takes us to shore in the late September evening. Our crew moves along volcanic wreckage—a cast-iron skillet melted and covering the land with a thick, black sheath. Retracing […]

A Gathering of Sorts

  A Gathering of Sorts As morning curdles its way to noontime, autumn plays its lazy guitar. To join the living world, we make our way to the post office with enough change in hand for three stamps. Their duty is delivering messages: a utility bill, the insurance payment, a letter to a friend. In […]

Before Your Train Leaves

A poem from Nomad’s End, published by Finishing Line Press, 2010.   Before your train leaves a handful of minutes need to morph into their shape, crust like atoms becoming a molecule and tell a story with thrift. No time to dawdle. Back-story, established by your eyes, advances the plot, though I am more interested […]

The Beauty of Faces

Babci’s recipe, mom’s hands, Amy’s poems.   Babka I eat the bread with raisins and some butter remembering how I first learned to knead it. My mother’s hands would shape the bread in careful mounds, the counter floured in a dusting, light as graying memory. I mix the dough with raisins and some sugar moving […]

From Nomad’s End, Finishing Line Press, 2010 Before Your Train Leaves a handful of minutes need to morph into their shape, crust like atoms becoming a molecule and tell a story with thrift. No time to dawdle. Back-story, established by your eyes, advances the plot, though I am more interested with the syllables of touch […]

Until Nomading Ends

Giving up the shell can be hard, but so worth it. After nomading, we find home. Abandonment Naked, the crab forgets his hermit ways, creeping in the oyster underworld, brushing against minnow fins and ugly red claws, until nomading ends, and a home, spiraled in calcium, appears. A watery cosmos of green awaits the refugee […]

Weightless

A poem first published in Potato Eaters, published by Finishing Line Press, copyright 2008. Weightless Autumn, the ballet, dances through the speechless trees, resplendent motion uttering no sound. Painted atmospheres tickle a spectator, that flesh colored leaf standing at the center, earthless – a Renaissance bather in a silent film. Beneath the young girl’s feet, […]