Category Archives: Poetry

maybe a tic, tack, or the wagon you tow, to light up the santa- capped cacti, how now the snow, do you ask, or hand me my mittens

we’ll tarry an orchard, comparin’ an apple to a pear; are fallen petals as fair, midair, ask a bard, her minstrel, his jongleur, who partner & regard an instep & leap as they are — shall I care — they are knot, troubadour, do I dare, uncertain while we card, by inch o’er the yardContinue reading “Hand Her A Fan”

art is an underlined apostrophe somewhere as serious wherever do we need its escape or rather ‘do it to Julia’ n by the way remember once to be

room is smaller curtains hollow hold the dust in the south of birds a candle gloams the carpet falls the old silk trails in fullness down a wilderness the town below the taller oaks in midnight go within the wind and still so fare