Poetry

Dream-singers, Story-tellers, Dancers, Loud laughers in the hands of Fate—            My People. Dish-washers, Elevator-boys, Ladies’…

Now I understand that there are two melodies playing, one below the other, one easier…

Blackberries hang in the darkest creases of the trellis, each dimpled to bursting. The black-eyed…

Ankle-deep in saltwater, a man lifts a small Child and places her on his hip….

somewhere a little girl is reading aloud in the middle of a dirt road. she…

—One means of sanity is to retain a hold on the natural world, to remain,…

Like all who believe in the senses, I was an accountant, copyist, statistician. Not registrar,…

In the broken place where we live, hope can be found in the cracks If…

All these mornings are one morning; over and over I am greeted by the new…

Grains of hope still remain Memories invade my brain When I seek peace I feel…

I found him on the porch that morning, sipping cold coffee, watching a crow dip…

Do you love things that cascade? Do you adore rain falling in sheets or over…

She begins, and my grandmother joins her. Mother and daughter sing like young girls. If…

On a fortunate day, when night and day meet, and some silence passes between them…

It covers everything, fine powder, the earth’s gold breath falling softly on the dark wood…

We humus-honed flesh-toned matte-finished mortals dwell on the dome of a miracle: a sparkling and…

call it our craziness even, call it anything. it is the life thing in us…

And a poet said, Speak to us of Beauty. And he answered: Where shall you…

. . . and silence is the golden mountain. —Jack Kerouac Listen. Turn everything off….

“This prayer from the Rwala Bedouin people belongs to a richly complex ritual performed by…