My heart is over by the budbreak far far over in true sun and night no passivity of rain it falls unequivocally as the light comes down in bars full chords of golden rays and the shadows palpable. My heart is just one cautious note a finch at the field’s edge singing it is so very late and yet still early a frost would be the end irrevocably but the leaves unfurl like tiny sails […]
The high was still low. In the shade the cold was bitter, and when the wind picked up– Three arbors of grapes, overgrown, neglected, and some chipped clipping shears. What makes a return prodigal? A morass, deadwood, suckers, shoots the color of rust, dried blood, arteries, and the ashen ghosts of summer after summer. Excise, and find the form inherent. To finish a thing, just one thing, done in its proper season and sequence. A […]
OPTIONAL POETRY 