Some of my poems or links to them. Many have appeared in on-line journals.
This young hunger
I dedicate this young and vibrant hunger
empty, elastic, and nearly ripe,
to the food on our table.
Better than salt, pepper, or ginger,
an appetite faithfully nurtured
is my offering.
Please accept my gratitude for this meal.
May those who are without food across the world be fed,
and fed well.
poem
Under the poem
there is a feeling.
Under the feeling
there is another poem.
I thought I didn’t like Andy Warhol’s art until one rainy day at the Portland Book Fair, I took refuge in the Portland Art Museum. The Warhol exhibit changed my mind. Give art a try in person. It’s different. Let him read his prints to you face to face.
On happening into a Warhol exhibit and being unwillingly moved
beauty spot
Mao Monroe
blown up
power
sex
desire
for everyone
who wants
more
electric chair ad campaigns selling
us
to us
the picture maker
duplicated reduplicated
whereverywhere
that image
examines itself
in itself
in itself
a white wig
a polaroid life
a heart pumping
copies of itself
into an unclosed system
blood
flooding
the factory floor
Sometimes poems come from poignant factoids. Here’s one:
Antarctica
Isostatic rebound:
as icesheets melt and land is relieved
of the weight of the ice,
the land returns to its original shape
Antarctica
Rising,
Antarctica, arising
through the ocean waters
breaking off glaciers
shedding ice like eggshells
in the rebirth of this cold phoenix land.
Not the Arctic,
not just ice,
not a phase of some larger other
sinking, losing, melting.
Antarctica, arising,
called back,
rolling up into the warming air,
waking in the fire.
everything not the poem chipped away even the poem just the fall breeze cool cottonwoods flirting with the sun
just this I want to touch you I just want to put my arm around your shoulders and feel your body and breath I want to feel you I want to hear your voice with my hands on the sides of your spine vibrating with quiet words I want to hear your body with my hands below your voice I want to see you I just want to see your face with your mouth available and I want to tell if your eyes and mouth are the same I want to come so close I have to close my eyes I want to open to you I just want to open my arms and not try to protect you or me from me or you I want us both to be innocent but perhaps leaving it behind is the most we can hope for
