Category Archives: poetry

and in california wine country

and in california wine country
there is one cloud that spills rain
in a grey sheen on the horizon
while over here, sun sun on the vines
shimmers emerald with shades of
dark moss. the smell of fermintation
reminds us of the season; the constant
turning of one thing,
into another.
and one hand runs the wire
while the other swirls, and swirls.

filling the blank space doesn’t mean you care (to a poet)

despite such a lyrical stance
he cares nothing for me

he cares only for a hurried
quickening breath

or the still life
of a sparrow who turns,
examining the ground

he does not care for my
pen hovering

or my sudden lack of trying

although he does suffer
(as we must)
finding words to create
this…
_____.

written waiting for a late train in Penn Station NYC

train station waiting on the last
late train
woman in beehive
and daisy dukes
while another in
impossibly tall shoes long eyelashes batting at
the pretty men
business travelers
wearing a path in the floor
how they tour
and turn
making deals with the air itself
and Amtrak personnel
create a new sign

yawns

and how the screeching never stops
yet it’s never right
and how the light
reflects

another group of models in beehive
so fitting before a trip
back to Baltimore

and how the light reflects.