Poetry

By Abbey Gate did they wait, hives of humanity confined in a makeshift holding pattern, their hopes in hand, desperate...

I remember to request no straw at lunch. The waiter asks whether I’m doing so to save the planet. Yes,...

The flowers lose themselves in grieving and each petal falls like a day that never was, but we all agree,...

Kids ride bikes along the paths in Falkner Park on a warm spring day as parents watch from nearby benches....

And Now, a Word from Violet Beauregarde I told you I was more of a gum girl. But you offered...

Red drips from the moon, like water off the glass leaving wet rings on our moving box coffee table—I’ll buy...

(in memory of Lavinia Andronicus) how many times have you found yourself on your knees begging for life for redemption...

i. self-destruction They’re standing on the banks of a river — in a gully – cutting through a wall of...

The pine martin watches, the wren takes flight, as men circle ‘round and the cutting begins. When it is finished,...

driving home from the orthodontist this morning, I’m thinking about the way birds fly while peaches are ripe & dew-damp...