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