White lead paint sloughed away, exfoliated by wind and rain. Bright cheeks weathered gray, recalling laughter of yesterday. Wooden legs… Read more Remains
Tag: poem
The American sky, 1874
What would it be like?– I wander, alone, in quiet woods one winter night staring into the best sky I’ve… Read more The American sky, 1874
Snow, pianissimo
The past few mornings the weather has deceived us. Jack Frost has made it impossible for me to leave the… Read more Snow, pianissimo
Grief, personified
Grief is nearly a person. He pulls up his small rickety wooden chair and sits quietly beside me. He is… Read more Grief, personified
Quantifiable
Quantifiable Love is certainly not girl’s best friend, glitter pawned for tears post-divorce. It is not awkward silence holding its… Read more Quantifiable
Irises
Irises Ashes silently sway like snowflakes all the long, hard winter through dark, bitter nights. I sit and burn alone.… Read more Irises
The real world
Someday, your father willbuild me a sunroomwith his hands. His sweat steadilydripping, devoted to craftingcontentment in my soul. And when… Read more The real world
Just wheat: Only what matters 