Conversation with the Sun in February

Sitting in a chair facing winter sun,

I will not ask Why or How long

will it take to heal? I will only say,

Joy. Small sounds like Ahhhh and Ohhhh

escape without thought. My eyes

are slits. After winter’s gray and black,


» Continue reading

Taking a Poetry Manuscript to the Post Office

It took a month to get this group of twenty-four

poems into a cohesive manuscript. Thirty

late night screamings, bouts of brain freeze,

juggling and futzing with commas and line

breaks, Do I want “the” or “a?” on poems

I had considered done. Dang, it’s the…

» Continue reading

Canning

I come to the woods for solitude,
for long ambling walks with field guides
in a battered knapsack, and for the serendipity
of wild creatures. I want writing time, and lament
that here, the sparse humanity is so social.
Acquaintances, up…

» Continue reading