More Poetry: Grandfather’s Axes

I was just talking with a friend about watching our elders grow old. My grandfather died of mesothelioma in a hospital bed many years ago now. I flew to Phoenix from Seattle to see him but had to return home on what turned out to be the day before he died, Thanksgiving. When I leaned... Continue Reading →

More Poetry: The Canoer

Sunday has looped back and so I post a new poem. I found this poem when I was living on a basalt bench above the Crooked River in Central Oregon. The river was at the center of my life as I skirted the canyon edge with the golden eagles and bighorn sheep on my walks... Continue Reading →

More Poetry: Heel Poem / Black Hooded

It's ironic really - so much more time in the house, yet less time writing. I doubt that I'm alone in my response to the pandemic. The whole thing has felt like an indomitable blank page. Poetry fights that feeling, so every weekend I'll share one. Let's start with Tolu Oloruntoba's powerful poem, Heel Poem... Continue Reading →

Past My Quarantine Window

The black ribbon, cracked and cauterized, carries them like thirst. mouth to throat.Hungry water, they trawl strollers, dogs, bags of to-go food, flimsy face masksclutches of mail toward the mouth. They are soft as water, lifting from the skin of the ribbon in ripples, throat-thirsty, fever-flushed in the sun.            

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