and as arduous as they might be, may we cultivate Bon courage, as Rodin declared to Rilke once when he wished him goodnight.
The Day After of the 2016 Election
Three Poems on the Sierra Minera
The steps down to this labyrinth are large no problem for my feet as many are. Miners who grew up in the job were small.
Summer Job
I used to mow the graveyard next to a church in South Strafford,
New Paint on Worn Walls
I feel your pain from afar. Breach of trust on any level is hard to bear,
Suicide Note
They all pretend to be free spirits, terrorists, Not by the book just by the letter, But hey, don’t they all write poetry, Don’t we all write poetry, these days,
The last death of Captain Nemo
There is a place where my son waits for me. A place where he dreams himself, where shadows are not sewn fast to the hard ground, where he can name each and every demon riding the waves,