Poet, cyclist, mother, lawyer, daughter, nature-lover, wife, photographer. Fan of Yeats, John Irving, Margaret Atwood, Wes Anderson, the Impressionists, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Martin Luther, Jesus. Not in that order.
I am burning through the decades, not figuratively as I finish my first fifth decade, no literally onto this bonfire I am pitching husks of barnacles like Porterfield Elementary autograph books, 40 years of birthday cards, Christmas photos, school concert programs, playbills, ticket stubs, pay stubs, tree bark, blurry photos, zoo photos, tree photos, maps … More Fire and the Deep
I. Pareidolia From far out, it appears to be art, but up close you see the ruse, the picnickers in the glade in Waiting for the Bride have no faces, or melted faces, and the Lost Horse has hind quarters that are really tree limbs, bent, and really there is no horse at all. Overwhelmed … More Uneasy Welkin, Sunday Preach (Or, the AI Algorithm Jumps the Creek)
Sleep swims slippery through this seine of mine tonight, I reach over to the nightstand and hold the world in my palm – even when the world is distant I seek what is spare, I seek out the edges. I click on tiny blue circles along the lakes and rivers as I move north – … More Snapchat Lullabies
They say that dogs can sniff out COVID in passengers at the Helsinki airport, offering a paw, or lying down – (even in this job, dogs are on our side – “I’m sorry,” they say with a paw, “you’re positive, but I will lie here with you.”) with near 100% accuracy. Maybe they smell it … More In Which Dogs Sniff out the Virus and Save the World, And Also Get Treats
This world is a sepulchre, this world is our tomb, cradling the bones of whoever was, and whoever is, and perhaps whoever shall be; This world holds us all fast as it surely weaves through the shroud of stars, the cloak of the Milky Way – And even when we’ve good and ruined this Earth … More The Earth’s Little Golden Book of Lament
Fall comes on too strong/ Branches up in summer’s skirt/ Before she thinks no/
I stand a moment in the space you left, while summer air curls through the windows wide – I, reconciling, make the empty bed, the sun lies on the laundered sheets and sighs; Your desk, your chest, your closet – clean and spare, these books have all been read, the records played – the things … More Leaving for College in a Year Marked by Plague Calls for a Sonnet
It’s after eight in the evening, and in this antique light, the Queen Anne’s Lace along the roads watches the sinking sun – hundreds of tatted blooms close up like praying hands, like thousands of empty teacups drained and set upon the sideboard of the day. In the morning they’ll open again to catch the … More That Summer of the Pandemic, It Was All Falling Apart, It was All Coming Together
When I pull onto Sunset Beach Road in the purple twilight, a couple is already standing entwined in front of their truck, tail lights pointed at Lake Michigan, peering into the western sky; I am not the only one who thought to watch from the bay. Do you see anything? they ask, without preamble, as … More Waiting for Comet Neowise
If we were still in the old world, the six-weeks ago one, right now a girl with a make-up pencil might be standing before you with a mock frown – “stand still!” she’d say, drawing crow lines on your face, not crow’s feet, but lines to make you look like a crow, so you could … More There is no Wizard
