Confession

I confessed to tears

at news of slaughter

from my old neighborhood

but in reality didn’t cry

I stopped crying years ago

Now I store suffering

behind my eyelids

and wonder

when the storage will be full

And what will happen then

Meanwhile I realize

it would take real courage

to admit being unable to cry

or ask for help

So that’s not what I’m doing here

Satire, Truth, Life, Death

Jostled from morning dreaming

with sing-song chanting

bouncing around in my brain

charlie hebdo

charlie hebdo

bouncing through the morning

in a rhythm from the dream

jostling coffee mugs & such

charlie hebdo

charlie hebdo

cat jumps abruptly in my lap

meows her cat-breath in my face

all as if to remonstrate

charlie hebdo

charlie hebdo

against opening the daily news

bouncing bone saws in the consulate

& accidental dismemberment

charlie hebdo

but we accept your explanation

& this will all blow over soon

it’s normal & entirely credible

jamal khashoggi

jamal khashoggi

jamal khashoggi

jamal khashoggi

October Tanka

An autumn archway

of just-so bending branches

crowned with chimney smoke

rising on cold air

through star-frosted windows

Notebook poetry for Kerry in the Imaginary Garden!

The Eleventh Hour

One of my poems appears in this gorgeous volume, Silkworm 11: The Eleventh Hour. Silkworm is the annual review of my beloved Florence Poets Society. I am so proud of this book and our group, the members of which I am endlessly grateful to and inspired by, wonderful poets, each and every one. Here’s my poem from Silkworm 11: 

 “Just a Few Small Things I Like”

I like the way

you open windows

in any kind of weather

as if to say hello morning air

thank you for visiting

I like the way

your fingers

navigate a messy ponytail

on weekday evenings

when you let your hair down

I like the way

you say you love me

even when you’re pissed off

Skulks Amongst Us

Skulks have claimed this land of ours,

infiltrating amongst us so we cannot see

them tracking our pain to its anxious end,

as though there ever whiffed an end

to the gaudy display of our

collective skulkishness. When all we see

is today, not tomorrow, we refuse to see

the consequences of our anxiety, ending

as it will when we skulks celebrate our

pain. It will be our loss to see in the end.

Trying TRITINA in the Imaginary Garden!

The Floating World

When despair

fills your body so fully

that breathing

becomes a focal point

bringing memories

of floating near ceilings

like a quirky witch

observing reality

from relative distance

you realize

that the upside-down

is actually quite familiar

and you possess the tools

to move through even this

in power

The Building Shakes When Trains Go By

It’s hard to understand

dreams from which screaming

I must be shaken awake

but have no memory

And what about

this waking nightmare

we are all walking alongside

in broad daylight

The nights are getting longer

as horrors grow bolder

lying outright

under penalty of perjury

Shakily I wonder

when the trains start running