Tuesday, July 8, 2025

MATURITY

Less of a ripening 
than a 
tipping point involved:

all that it takes 
is one 
or two more problems 

than commensurate tomorrows 
in which 
they can be solved. 


Monday, July 7, 2025

FINALLY

My name: 
one mighty 
syllable—

wind 
through arborvitae; 

say it 
softly if you will—
if you must,

you won't be 
capable. 

Friday, June 20, 2025

SUMMER SOLSTICE

In tune 
with the fanfare 
of solar noon, 

gold-fuzzed bees drift by 
confused, gassed with the scent 
of a million flowers;

and birdsongs 
are launched 
from a cache of cool rocks, 

then pitched at you 
underhand 
by the same clement wind. 

But what measure is disguised 
by glinting treasure 
troves of light? 

One day, you might 
appraise this as the longest 
of your life.


Thursday, June 19, 2025

ODYSSEYS

Year after year, 
we inure, 
stay aloof; 

we insulate our ears 
from the siren 
song of future—or else,

disguise ourselves 
from ourselves 

to walk like a ghost 
through the Ithaca 
of our hearts—

which only serves,
to all we meet,

as proof of how engrossed—
how invested 
we still are—

in our most 
deceitful 
and adulterous parts. 


Wednesday, June 18, 2025

DEMOTION

And here 
I think I am
all alone—

think I am
the subject 
of this poem—

when a trio of round bees 
lands, keen 
but conscientiously 

to steal
from the rough
swirls of clover where I sit

those leading-man kisses, 
which go on
long enough 

to make me feel 
invisible—yet more 
than a little embarrassed. . 


Tuesday, June 17, 2025

CODEPENDENCE

What is faith 
but the process 
of making up shapes 

in my mouth 
as I go? 

There is no—
there is no—
no such thing as— 

a correct structure, 
I stutter; 

yet I can't 
shake the feeling 

that something 
must come next. 


Not to sound 
defeatist, 
or morose—but 

I'm a completist, so 
carve it on my stone: 

Here Lies A Sucker 
For Matters Of Course. 

Reality may be 
a bad marriage, 

but I'm far too 
invested in it now 
to divorce; 

in fact, the quicker 
time passes, 

the less and less 
I even notice 
the flicker.  


Monday, June 16, 2025

WILDFLOWERS

From pasture 
to parkland, parkland 
to landfill,

from swirl of hills 
to roadside ditch,

let the nominal 
pests and invasives 
proliferate—

their odd-
numbered petals, 
their frowsy leaves

once drenched 
with the curious
blue rain of night, 

now lousy 
with inviolate light—

filthy with 
the summer wind.