- Details
- Poetry
I feel constant guilt as a human
because I could do more than I do
because I seem to always fall behind
and rain falls
- Details
- Poetry
someday
reality will become worthless
your pockets
will fill with sand
- Details
- Poetry
Beyond St. Anne’s and the Bernardines,
where the liturgical calendar
is marked by a family of bells,
the monastery is held
within sand, and hills, and all that is green.
- Details
- Poetry
When I was small, my mother explained the
colors of the flag to me: yellow is the wheat field in
the month that I was born; green is the forest tree in
the summer; red is the blood released so she could be
here to tell me.
- Details
- Poetry
but there is no war
says the boy
running down the street
the war ended
when the planes came
and we didn't make it
to the shelter
- Details
- Poetry
With such beauty the heart is freed
For the traveller who yearns to roam.
If only the eye could still see to see
The shores of Dubysa, my home.
- Details
- Poetry
a time when people were
not afraid of each other?
must be a bad joke
ask any rowan
by the road
- Details
- Poetry
A lonely lover sings
Or maybe
We are the song
The lyrics don't make sense
We keep forgetting the words
Let's stay for another one
Just one more
- Details
- Poetry
i have a dark pocket
i try to avoid that place in my mind
where the Earth is a little blue marble
the size of a pea and we are
never there
- Details
- Poetry
and all of this must be preserved against time
though once a doctor made it very plain:
if there are some patients who feel cool
because they wrote a poem or two
let them try and operate on someone's brain
- Details
- Poetry
step out of the dream box, o Hamlet, your hour draws near
step out of the dream box
step out of the dream box
you can wear a colorful dress and sail and sail down the river