On Writing

POEM A DAY – March 21

one day into spring and i’m floating on a raftof poetry…short, fat chunksof stanzas braided withmermaid hair…and hopethe water (made of tears) isbedazzled by the sun:death keeps scooping people upand I think she’s tired tooof all the heaving last nightthere was so much magicthough, just like…everywhereon everyone…skin so goose-bumped we looked like aliensall that lifting… Continue reading POEM A DAY – March 21

On Writing

POEM A DAY – March 19

This Now The dog snores.The coffee colds.The heat whirs. Pope JoanHestiaSappho and Marguerite Porete await my attention.The journal pulses. Death is open-mouthedswallowing anotherbody into its belly depth, darkness:the hold before a new birthing untangles into thelight. Grief is agrotto we slink into – weep, laughsigh, sleep. Ourflushed cheeks  press againstseashell walls.