Monday, July 23, 2012



I sail on a ship in a far sea
            and my eyes are gold,
gold as the daughters of Hecate
            who follow the Hounds of Bran.
I am searching for a little flower,
            a little purple, reddened flower,
and a greening grave, mounded with stone and earth.

My boat is a cockleshell, golden and green,
            and I sing as I sail
            a new, sharp tune.
Silver flowers bloom out of my hair
I wear glass earrings, whistling in the wind.

I am on a quest for tomorrow’s yesterday
that one, sweet point
            where liquid sun and amythestine moon
                        kiss in a never-never world of night.


(This is - was - my last poem. It was the latest I wrote, right around the time I finished undergrad. It was also the last, as I never felt the urge again. Guess I wrote out everything I had. Incidentally, I have no recollection of writing this, at all. When I found it, I googled it to make sure it was mine! I'm pretty sure it is...)

Monday, July 16, 2012

Summer evening--

Summer evening
bright white light filters through
a profusion of narrow green leaves
outside my window
flickering shadows on my face as
I dry my hair
a sudden swoop
a red cardinal
darts and lands on a
suddenly swaying branch
crimson feathers
translucent orange beak
stylish black trimming
he falls to the deck like a stone
and curves out under the railing


Monday, July 9, 2012

Sun glows--

the sun glows
i balance
on a chair and climb
into bed
the white walls
of my room
are quiet
we talk;
“goodnight” she says
and is silent
i stare out the window
at the leaves
black blurs against
mellow gold
this is evening
i gaze at the white walls
and listen
to the hum of the air-conditioner


Monday, July 2, 2012

Spring morning--

Spring morning
the raindrops run cold races
down my neck
bare legs in the warm
humid air
brought out of a stiff cocoon
light as wind
I dance
in wet grass
and spin
chasing my own fingers
that stretch
spattered with mists
towards the gray sky