The Dress This poem began with the image of a man holding a dress in a dim room, an object behaving as both memory and disguise. Its theme is how clothing can momentarily alter the body’s outline and expose what grief refuses to say....

seen from United States

seen from United States
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The Dress This poem began with the image of a man holding a dress in a dim room, an object behaving as both memory and disguise. Its theme is how clothing can momentarily alter the body’s outline and expose what grief refuses to say....
Wind This poem began with the sensation of wind as a physical agent—something that rearranges a room without permission. I wanted to write into that pressure, letting objects register the disturbance while the human world remained unconscious.
Making Lemonade Street
Making Lemonade StreetThey are bulldozing the forest in front of the forest when we stop.Mockingbirds, bottle flies— explode once.Tulip poplars in late greening splinter, scatter around the cut-out pond.A worm of gravel shadows the creek.Workers in concrete dust,SPF walls rising.The wheeling mockingbirds break north leaving leftover trees to flies, the pond to frogs.“Lemonade Street “ the new…
Where Are You My Friend…?
Wail
In huddled sleepbeneath these hospital blankets,I let out my whale song—It goes out into the dark,never returningthrough my final sleep.