Poetry
Poem of the Week
Another light is growing out of their shadows. You can hear it.
Poem of the Week
Remind the children never to use the state as a metric for ethics.
Poetry
There was a special kind of power in playing the father of God.
Poetry
Desire whittled me a tool I’d never seen but knew how to use.
Poem of the Week
I dream a sonnet made of buttons posed stiff against its milky plastic sky.
Poem of the Week
I stay gripped to pine and the sugar of existence runs through you.
Poem of the Week
That’s how a lifetime passes, closing the wound, a million stitches.
iPoems
An expansion into light, or we could have been, or were for a moment.
Poem of the Week
I’m going to cut me some ham and wait for death to lace his boots.
Poem of the Week
After having been riddled with stars: I lost the light that was lost.
Poetry
Don’t worry baby, that’s just the way things be sometimes.
Poem of the Week
It’s wrong to say the lightning is pink is nothing other than to say it’s not.
Poetry
The itch of hay dust was the unscratchable itch of desire.
Poetry
When I speak and wave my arms, it sniffs the air and watches me.
Poetry
Since the day the bell was cast I have sat in the bishop’s carved chair and waited my turn.
Poem of the Week
It’s hard to save your own life, to take such extreme measures alone.
Poem of the Week
I’m the astronomer unable to lower his telescope, or look away.
Poem of the Week
Call it an echo. Like a sketch of the moon as the moon lies in silvery forms.
Poem of the Week
Some portion of love is braided from lying, from the names of distance.
Poem of the Week
She was so beautiful and sweet to us. I remember she laughed a lot.
Poem of the Week
The white geometry of caulk between bathroom tiles—I’m held in place.
Poetry
Break me like bread. Take me apart. Strip each rib down to light.
iPoems
damn it we both die anyway at different times, with different pains
Poem of the Week
Welcome, little citizen. Lend me your presence, and I’ll lend you mine.
Poem of the Week
There is still the same reaching of the tongue for that pink ridge.
Poem of the Week
A goddam mean big sonofabitch boar rooted me in the stomach.
iPoems
Each evening spent guessing which hemisphere the moon might wreck.
Poetry
Our griefs perceive what we dismiss: the slight give of stage boards.
Poem of the Week
I know that hairs
on my head go singly gray only
by night.
on my head go singly gray only
by night.
Poem of the Week
We crunch through the snow in the predawn blue-black cold.
He tells me about the stars: Vega, Betelgeuse, Arcturus, Rigel.
