Poetry

come to me in the high notes of an oboe amidst the din of a cafe turned concert venue for in your hands & vision every place can sacredly contain the tunes that let tears freely flow into one's cup or your goblet of red wine deficit concerts, you called them, gatherings of...

I toss brand new socks back and rifle through drawers for solace and kindness The old ones surrender and smile at me the garters have given up they are indolent around the ankles while flesh peeps through threadbare cloth at the heels  Neckties hang in the order they were hung...

All that I've got is a sinful heart I am offering. What is it for a cloak in you that I wanted to be clothed in? Blessing is only for the poor, widowed and miserable. But there is a peeping hole even in the darkest cave. An entrance to...

Let me, please I beg of you Let me catch the whiff of fresh air Against my cheeks The first ray of sunshine As new day breaks As it kisses the grass Green on my barefoot   Before it filters through The stained glass windows Bearing memories of a blurry past Let me step...

Being a woman is thrust upon you. You walk under stars and suddenly casually, make a fist in your pocket and hold your key—like a weapon. It is keen awareness of fabric length, and clenched assessment of skin, padlocks, mirrors, stopping cars, of home routes, and drink offers. Being a woman is weighing the chances of...

In celebration of the October 4 feast of St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of the environment and all of God's creatures. Eyes follow the sound Ears scan the foliage Breath on hold Heart gripped still Mind wiped clear like the sky in the lake To await The moment The presence. A...