Posts
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I Miss my Grandmother's House
She died when I was twelve
and I still miss her house
with a VHS copy of Cinderella too precious to shelve
She died when I was twelve
and I know it's best not to dwell
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Advent Candles
winter
traditional
candles on the table
Advent is here in flame and fire
It's warm.
winter
transitional
Christmas films on cable
Advent light now frames the foyer
It's warm.
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A Haiku and a Realization
Free verse poetry
overtakes the English tongue
beautiful but sad
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The Beginning
And then there were Two.
There was Nothing and there were Two and they were not in love. Love was not a thing yet, there was Nothing.
One said to the other, "I've discovered I can say words."
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At least I'm writing
I need to write.
God, do I.
It's been days, with no click of the keys
to write out simple stories, poems, words
things that will never see the light of day
but I still love.
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A Writer's Words
I write about the death of kings, of peasants, of a soldier
I form the meter to make the final trek of a soldierDo not assume the writing is the writer
but assume the writing is to break/wreck a soldier
Loves
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A Yellow Violet
Her name was Violet,
but she always wore yellow.
I spied her from across the room as I hesitated in the sun-framed doorway, and she was beautiful.
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"The Only Thing to Fear is Fear Itself"
I’m scared I’ll keep on standing at a grave
of someone who isn’t dead.
That i’ll miss you forever
even when I know you won't,
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Humming to Our Hearts
The piano
Twirling through the air,
The lyrics I hummed to
With my grandma, my aunt,
My mom,
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April, My Admiral
April, my admiral,
lighten my wings with your shrill whistle,
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everyone has discarded their jackets again
it is finally finally finally
warm - kind of,
sunshine / soft rain / sixty degrees with a brisk step to it
that makes me think nobody but Vermonters who miss the days
of tap step / crocuses / daffodils buried in snow
