Category Archives: Reprint

Recycling

Posted on February 26, 2019 by

When Dad had his easy operation he quit smoking, cold turkey, and Peggy and I traced and crayoned the encyclopedia’s glossy plates. I gave him a cardinal, a goldfinch, a blue jay and still know those basic colors, their cocked … Continue reading →

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Archetypes

Posted on February 23, 2019 by

I was another puzzle piece placed in the archetype of a boy and his dad. He used to teach me how to ride a bike. He’d pick me up whenever I cried; bruised knees, bleeding. Lazy Sunday afternoons, crispy snacks … Continue reading →

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Chinese Tea

Posted on February 22, 2019 by

The fishing drink, as my father calls it, with a thin string that grows from its half-bodied sachet of crushed leaves and cheap netting. A miniature form of his fibreglass rod, the pole vault that propels him into his next … Continue reading →

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minimize

Posted on December 9, 2018 by

you are —                         a sore in my mouth, born             savage amid the delicate vowels i             spin for mother; the last rotations             of summer, all cracked lips and             missteps into sidewalk puddles.             my head tilted & searching for a             requiem to … Continue reading →

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Alms of Ouroboros

Posted on November 26, 2018 by

Those politics will eat you for breakfast and leave the empty plate smeared with grease That’s not God in your needle That’s not love in your message That’s not virtue in your stained glass That’s not power in your eyes … Continue reading →

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Contrails

Posted on September 29, 2018 by

            —after a photograph by Colleen MacLaughlin One answer lies in the tropospheric molecules scattering short blue waves and vapor meeting minus-sixty. But what’s the burning question? What orders the eye, the brain, to catch all the colors after rain? What … Continue reading →

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Small Bed

Posted on September 29, 2018 by

When you turn off the light the room melts, butter in night’s hot pan. We talk as the familiar sneaks back wearing shy outlines. You say we are so close because our bed is small, letting us carry night’s long … Continue reading →

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