This poem, which first appeared in my chapbook “Irresistible”, is the first of two selected for the anthology “Poets Speaking To Poets: Echoes and Tributes” – the brainchild of editors Robert Hamblin and Nicholas Fargnoli. My poem was written after Cecilia Woloch’s “Blazon”. I will post my tribute poem later. The book is a wonderful collection of poems that talk to each other through poets past and present. It’s available on Amazon here and also here.
Americano coffee in a mug, time alone to savor some timeless good words, the day, for me, just beginning, unfolding sip by sip from the generous cup in which it is first held.
Yes, wars still rage on either side of the heart’s door. But lucky me—a colicky baby born into a colicky world, a world, it turns out, impossible not to love with all the muscle of the grateful arms in which I was first held.
This seemed like the perfect poem for me to post, as I’m still in the glow of my son becoming a new father, the little guy a month old now. It was first published in 2008 in North Shore Magazine.
In the cathedral of this forest while birds sing unseen from the vaulted shadows, I sit in the hand-carved pew of a sawed-off cedar trunk and think about last night’s
argument, a congregation of notes falling, rising, coins of light clinking into the basket: the dappled adagio that ministers a tight staccato heart.
Century-old trees stand like mossed-over crosses unbroken in their silence, upholding the climb of secrets: the whispers about living on what’s left over from
the cacophonous demands of a day, the scraping of those plates to give again what is left over, love quietly shrinking from the beginning to the end of a word, pursed lips praying but little abiding as prayer.
Yet here, in a green profusion the curling ferns, the pungent earth and the soaring branches cannot hold all the love that grew them, nor can the birds so tirelessly singing, nor my dog chasing a squirrel chasing a squirrel.
The math is simple. There is no subtraction. Love’s pulse is steady and it loads the woodland table, as it must, even now, heap a forgotten room in us.
Another poem that first appeared in the Taos Journal of International Poetry and Art in 2017. My thanks again to editors Veronica Golos and Catherine Strisik for including it.
I recently had the good fortune to be filmed reading a selection of poems from my chapbook “Irresistible”. It was my brilliant son Stewart’s idea and I really enjoyed the experience! Please do check it out, if you have 20 minutes to spare:
We did this inthe Carcross Desertin the Yukon. The wind was howling and though we found a fairly protected spot, you can hear it gusting here and there in the video (as well as the odd ATV gunning it over the dunes). Many thanks to Stewart for his expertise! Here he is at Bennett Beach in Carcross:
Happy to say this little poem has just been published in the 2020 print edition of “Crosswinds Poetry Journal” along with other finalists and winners of its annual contest. The poem was inspired by an eagle seen flying at sunset the last day of September and the boating memory of another eagle which was carrying a 3 foot long snake home for dinner.
My poem LIFE – A Snapshot is now live at Recenter Press Poetry Journal! This poem was written a very long time ago – many thanks to editor Terra Oliveira for including it in Issue 3, alongside other insightful poems. And thanks to fellow poet Robert Okaji for introducing me to this journal, whose purpose is as its name suggests – to recenter!
through the cherry trees:
a thousand blossoms
to the ground below.
Though soon to die
they danced in the breeze
like beautiful lovers
It seemed the trees
reached for them,
that the birds sang louder
with the squirrels chit-chattering.
It seemed the ants looked up
from their mad black scramble,
that we saw the grass billowing,
and the sun, wanting to touch
every petal, and the enormous lake
of sky, spilling down.
It seemed we all swam as one
for a moment, and belonged
in the world that way.
Though I promised to post a variation of the previous poem, this seemed a more fitting poem right now, written a lifetime ago. First published as an honorable mention for the Arborealis Prize in 2012. When we can travel again, I’ll return to the Mazatlán poem. May you and yours keep healthy!