Poetry

Picking Blackberries

If we are lucky, facts of life will force us to accept the reality of our desires our fears and unleash our innate need to express ourselves, to achieve self-literacy through …

Thoughts Along I-75 South

Under horizon-to-horizon lead, with intermittent rain more mist than drops, we cleave Michigan north to south, driving between stands of pine and birch that go on mile after mile after …

The Question of Poetry

It first appeared as a white patch on the ivy covered wall near an open window of the arts building   It caught my eye immediately Like paint spilled on a canvas of green   Not …

Oklahoma Dust

Dust on the dash, windows up as we roll through back roads, radio on static. I will never leave you – in my head, not on my tongue – as mile markers disappear into a cool sunset. That flight …

Mirror, Mirror

“What’s that?” My father and I were cleaning out my grandmother’s railroad apartment and had come near the end of the hallway with her chest of drawers. “Your grandmother’s bed sheets.” He …

Flight

You’re strapped in for the hour flight, when a young woman, all flush and out of breath, stops at your row, apologizes with her eyes for making you get up. You fumble with the seat belt, …

Felt Tongue

a sad body without a lift inside adler shoes walking down narrow streets in the loneliness  of city lights drawing out the  sad colors with a strong yellow  bar of light that the …