Listenings
Moon rides in just over the crest of Creed Mountain and our words tremble in a sudden wind as the pines unlock their arms and remind of all the lost years. We made love here in our youth, discarded self after self to reach the single one each to each, hours falling away like used up rayons when the picture says finished. If there was a future to be met we didn’t see it, not then daylight or dark rain or sun. Only the pulse of the moment holding us as a mother might her brief children, warmth and breath all that matters. Now we wander here with eyes wary, unspoken thoughts casting ahead for...
Read MoreLosses, Reachings
Your poems have arrived. Sea gulls wheeling toward shore messages swarming everywhere. I ask you how a single poem can take the whole earth in its palm, even time gathering there in its silent wings. How is it you left the Bay of Biscay and didn’t send me the news of death. Uncle Samuel shriveled and pale in his Bordeaux apartment near the quai. I ask if you witnessed his last words and captured them in a poem that can strike through stone and make a radiance out of the...
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