POEM ALONE

I’m uncertain if the man in the Target parking lot is actually playing or if his clarinet is merely rigged to the speaker welcoming tips and...

  I was washing dishes the day my brother was slapped into the Army. Smirking and bold, loaded with eighteen years of belligerence, he was l...

It’s already summer, and we’re getting rid of clothes, getting ready to greet the scorching days ahead; making the place airy and less clutt...

in dusty archives you carried silent hope walked damp earth marked by granite headstones weighted   memories hushed beneath the soil you ca...

In the coming emergency, dreams may have to  be shackled, children  cleaved from their mothers' breasts, lovers not to our liking may ha...

Deep inside this open-door cafe a nervous sparrow lands on back of chair next to one I occupy. Fly on table top is perfectly still, like not...

Following the entry in the Journal of Jules Renard: February 26, 1906 "Mon passé, c'est les trois quarts de mon présent. Je rêve pl...

Caught in a curled breeze, aflutter, The Times alights between the lines of a crosswalk. A block away, The World , soiled in a bin, sits bet...

I open the window not because the air is better, but because it reminds me behind the wall there is space. The light of the sun scratches th...

Bridal illusion is a soft  mesh net fabric  often used for veils  or layered over opaque  cloth to create an  ethereal effect. Illusions  ar...