The Descent
By • March 16, 2012
I love to walk with Sue,
my arms tightly around her
waist. She always begins
where I end. But,
There is a look she gets
when she sees the …
Essence of Old Kentucky
By • February 20, 2012
Heat waves rise
when I pull the bow.
White road dust swirling
around my fingers
I can smell the land,
the years,
the maker.
Moving up the scales,
mocking birds and rattlesnakes
hum …
The Colour of My Spots
By • December 26, 2011
Now, if you pitch your little tent along the broad highway
The board of Sanitation says, “Sorry, you can’t stay.”
“Come on, come on, get movin’,” …
Gypsy Stories
By • November 11, 2011
The wax gathers at its feet,
dancing, dancing.
White bright light with a dirty base.
It clings to a single point. Pulling
air from a straw under water.
That …
