Poem for Laura Benua
First Morning in March for Laura The birds fly in and I lift my head to sun broken skies of iron and pearl trees drawn in a darker lead icicles hanging from wires...
Read MoreFirst Morning in March for Laura The birds fly in and I lift my head to sun broken skies of iron and pearl trees drawn in a darker lead icicles hanging from wires...
Read MoreMy old, dear friend, soul buddy, partner in crime, best friend Laura Benua has died. She died in her sleep of a heart attack. She was about 50 years old. I have so many...
Read MoreThis poem is for John Perlman. John was not my only poetry teacher, but he was the only teacher I had who was a poet, and his influence on my writing, and on my view of...
Read Moreit didn’t matter what the title was because no one would see it shit some things won’t be named tamed they write themselves twelves in and out like folding paper...
Read MoreWALKING HOME the snow is like a harpsichord crystals running high in dendrites of faceless trees dressed all alike in bureaucratic grey a fracture underfoot the bridge...
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