Poetry
Poetry
I stuff cotton in my ears, bits of bird’s nest, anything to stop all that talk.
Poetry
Trysting lovers kissed while breezes fidgeted the leaves.
Poem of the Week
Fires, always fires after midnight, the sun depending in the purple birches.
Poem of the Week
Wanderer moon smiling a faintly ironical smile at this summer morning—
Poem of the Week
Three rooms, sight unseen, rented from a nurse and her husband.
Poetry
My body. Stop the air. Travel by stopping, full stop, just there.
Poem of the Week
Years after the Sisters of the Holy Names left you unlock the door.
iPoems
The shadow carves the hours while the Latin inscribes
iPoems
sunrise reminds the shama to emerge from her perch in the pandanus tree
Poetry
There was a fish. And then there was the consciousness of robots.
Poetry
A man jostles my stride to the street, no shoulder on which to move.
Poetry
We cling to an exact number of planets, to the Earth Our Mother.
Poem of the Week
If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you time is a language I don’t speak.
Poetry
They need to be named, loved, then unnamed to be seen once more.
Poem of the Week
Window widows we were once, like lonely oil spilled on sullied beaches.
iPoems
No, you may not walk there. No, you may not stand on that. He is not here.
Poem of the Week
It was a Hmong villager who roped you with dogs on the chase.
Poem of the Week
My children, children, remember to let me go, delete my number.
Poem of the Week
If you are going to be my teacher, you will have to become a tiger.
Poetry
I’m trying to manage my dumb-dumb time machine brain and be here.
Photography & Art
“If the world is becoming a void, the artist must fill it with his soul.”
Poetry
When I saw my father for the last time, we both did the same thing.
Poem of the Week
a clock struck again & again by a granite fist; us masked & rocking
Poem of the Week
It was comforting to see her suffer the way we suffer, hollowed out.
Poem of the Week
The ego with which we began filters away as love accumulates below.
Poem of the Week
we are saying thank you in doorways and in the backs of cars
Poem of the Week
The snow on the windshield a tunnel of wings my friend is driving through.
