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.
And shining in the green field As though they are just-painted models In someone’s miniature world, Set just So as We fly down 577 while Sun and rain leapfrog over each other, Empty houses, fallow fields, A woman pulling weeds In a rectangular patch Reclaimed from the wild, Destined for the wild In 40 years … More Black Horses Wet
I am drunk on this new summer twilight, the world’s wash is golden-hued burdens liberally poured, and so I will roll in the fields where the corn is laid out in straight, sober lines, the light Creeping between them like water rising slow – I will lick the tree trunks and the underside of leaves … More One For the Road
This deep June evening with the sun pulling away from the sky Sinking into the earth, its journey more than half gone, like mine – This soft gold light finds a way through the blossoming dogwood, Lights up the slats on the barn with gossamer gold, makes beautiful The old; This bluebird dead on the … More Everything About this Bike Ride Tells Me I am Going to Die
Late March slumps against Lake Michigan – Cold and brown with patches of crusted snow frozen to the face of the obstinate earth, wind whips the eyes and tears freeze; Perhaps, then, we can be absolved, when watching the mute six o’clock news during the Friday fish fry, Brandy Old Fashioneds in hand, … More Comes Now Spring
i. Porterfield Elementary jutted like a brick mole on the inside bicep of Highway E, just down from where Roberta’s dad sold tractors to the flannelled German, Norwegian, and Polish farmers digging up the rocky soil around us. Here I would learn subtraction from zero, borrowing a ten from the neighbor number like … More Subtext
Eau Claire looks good but shaggy, like Jason Segel or some other not quite A list actor needing a shave and a few days without beer, the grass is just now green and the University is torn up, the Sprites statue in an unfamiliar place or maybe I just don’t remember where it was, it’s … More Metal Detector Man
There is a man built like a hay bale in the row in front of me, a blue flannel shirt, he comes in alone, jams his long legs behind the seat in front of him, and much like a bale of hay, he speaks to no one but stays hours and hours to have … More At the Nick Offerman Book Reading Event In Milwaukee
Brown beer bottle clots spot Winter’s arterial ditches; He coughs up litter – golden bow from a Christmas wreath, a decaying newspaper fat with ads. A dead deer is suspended in the cold water at the edge of the forest, glassy eyed – a Russian Tsar, preserved; Winter clings to the brown land, a lover … More Folding Winter
Up, as the sun stretches lazily across the unmade bed of the Midwest and taps the Pacific shore, rousting the shore birds, up before they planned, before coffee, before mirror, up before their war paint and fences, they come out with leashes, wrinkled pajama pants, and flip flops that softly slap and whisper sleepy recognition … More Dog Walkers in Manhattan Beach
The year before the plane finally nosed into the frigid winter sky Was the slow grating scrape of a wooden match along the cold cement, Until I burst into a bright circle of flame; all else recedes in the Haitian heat; Tiny stuttering flames of Kreyol a flicking tongue against the landscape; (rutted and rock-strewn … More Match Girl
Halfway North 