Tag Archives: impermanence

Taking the Dogs Out One Night After a Snowstorm



Taking the Dogs Out One Night After a Snowstorm

The dogs a brown blur against blinding
white barely visible ridges and striations

Patterns of falling and wind-riddance
the shapeless back yard a single unique

print of the storm’s finger but nothing
weighing in as evidence more so

than my daughter’s bright red jacket
so lively against this erasure

like my love for that life and
everything that came before it

and the blue of the twilight
and the black of what follows

Suggestion, Just Before Sunrise, Cemetery Hillside [#FullMoonSocial2014]

Suggestion, Just Before Sunrise, Cemetery Hillside


Loblolly pines peel away from the paling sky
looking back on their roots.

Over one’s shoulder the full moon
eclipsed on the western horizon’s

almost an after-thought. As indirect
light rises from the ground below us men come,

constructing the canopy tent for the next
funeral. Ground fog further east glows

red and headlights are no longer
necessary to see where you’re going.

To the Tune of a Song Not Yet Written [3]

Note: third in a series of poems with the same title, to be scattered throughout a larger project called The Drift

To the Tune of a Song Not Yet Written [3]

Five white petals on a black flower
among many in an orange field on the sliver of wing

of an insect pausing by the sill then flying then forgotten
nine months later—my first five decades




Poem To Be Read But Once

Poem To Be Read But Once


As soon as I have finished reading this poem
to you, you will begin forgetting it.

I have written it many times
but it can be read only once.

You are thinking if you read it
and I read it then that is more

Than once only but those
are different poems. This one

Is for you alone. Take a moment
to enjoy being in the middle of it.

I will even skip a line for you to take it all in:

And when you have read it the words
will fall away almost

immediately though the poem never
will nor old love and what travels with it

the line you’ll never forget
after all will be the one I skipped for you

Morning Sounds on a Day Off

Morning Sounds on a Day Off


Some repetitive bird calls, punctuated by crows.
Closer in, my wife sketching icons

across the table, pen going back and forth
on rough paper. Two cats breathing

still closer on the table by my open book.
When I open my eyes all sounds disappear.

Except the old wall clock ticking, ticking
which I hear even where there are no clocks.