Poetry – Halfway North

That Summer of the Pandemic, It Was All Falling Apart, It was All Coming Together

July 30, 2020

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

Waiting for Comet Neowise

July 26, 2020

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

There is no Wizard

April 25, 2020

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

The Book of the Covid Moon

April 14, 2020

This full moon is an open book left for you in the beach house you rent for the summer, full of some other family’s things. The preface, nothing but light. As days flip by, thin as ghosts, you lose the plot: the moon comes up in another part of the house, sets when you aren’t … More The Book of the Covid Moon

The Lights Flicker Once, Last Call in Suamico

March 24, 2020

And it’s the beginning of the end of the world – the regulars are turned out of the taverns, red-faced and singing defiantly, swaying and carrying their jackets under their arms into the almost-spring night, leaving behind the warm beer-sign bubbles, the cracked cheer of the bartenders, the pilsner philosophy of their fellow compatriots holding … More The Lights Flicker Once, Last Call in Suamico

By Tacit Agreement, Sunday at the Sensiba Trail

March 23, 2020

We do not speak of the outside world – we whistle at the sun nosing around the fraying stratus clouds, lifting and dropping golden rays that splash our ankles and the winter-dead grasses – we call out to our dogs sniffing one another in turn, then exuberantly rolling in the dead carp that the bald … More By Tacit Agreement, Sunday at the Sensiba Trail

Sunday Morning Ride on the Peshtigo River Trail

February 23, 2020

Chickadees, snowshine, tourmaline skies; Blue jays, jack pine, solitude mine.

In Which Woolly Mammoths Save the World, Starting with Siberia, Because Permafrost is Melt and Carbon is Release

February 5, 2020

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/siberia-pleistocene-park-bringing-back-pieces-of-the-ice-age-to-combat-climate-change-60-minutes/
… More In Which Woolly Mammoths Save the World, Starting with Siberia, Because Permafrost is Melt and Carbon is Release

A Confederacy of Dunces and Castoffs

January 20, 2020

We “go thrifting,” my daughter and I, because it’s again cool to be uncool and because she can’t yet hear the murmurs of each discarded thing. I dread finding items I’ve already cast off at the Goodwill on Oneida street; I prepare to glance away awkwardly, pretending to see something that interests me in the … More A Confederacy of Dunces and Castoffs

Heart in Darkness

January 19, 2020

The heart is a muscle The heart is a fist it’s strong and it’s wary, this beast in my breast. My heart has been sleeping My heart has dreamed dreams – It wakens, now, flexing, it growls and it gleams. My heart is gone hunting, My heart leads me on Through starless dark forests, on … More Heart in Darkness

Halfway North

Meet You Halfway – Ordinary Poetry

Category: Poetry