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“I throw out love
like an anchor and wait where the long house lights
of strangers tickle the river’s back …
Isn’t it right to drag the rivers for the bodies
not even the nets could catch? I won’t lie, I want
you to lie with me on the tumbling surface of love.
from “Sailing the Back River”
― Floating on Solitude: Three Books of Poems
like an anchor and wait where the long house lights
of strangers tickle the river’s back …
Isn’t it right to drag the rivers for the bodies
not even the nets could catch? I won’t lie, I want
you to lie with me on the tumbling surface of love.
from “Sailing the Back River”
― Floating on Solitude: Three Books of Poems
“Every gray day swells in around you, gold bird.
Sinister as the copperhead in thick russet
pinestraw, that held-back surge of piled up desire.
I think my hands were born to touch and weave with
air your intricate dips, veers, blinks always take.”
― Fate's Kite: Poems, 1991-1995
Sinister as the copperhead in thick russet
pinestraw, that held-back surge of piled up desire.
I think my hands were born to touch and weave with
air your intricate dips, veers, blinks always take.”
― Fate's Kite: Poems, 1991-1995
“and I had no home but the heart’s hut,
the blistering walls of loneliness,
the world’s blue skymiles of longing.”
― The Roundhouse Voices: New and Selected Poems
the blistering walls of loneliness,
the world’s blue skymiles of longing.”
― The Roundhouse Voices: New and Selected Poems
