Falling Through

Waterbugs unzipping the seam of river, hundreds of Vs opening before me, it is warm but I know what lies ahead the mirrored clouds afloat on the smooth surface in the late August twilight now sink to the riverbed like cotton candy autumn leaves while fat walleye heave and leave blooms of mud behind in … More Falling Through

Casting Die

I’ve cast the three who lived (thrown, broken, mending) upon the river of the world (flown, dammed, bending) they drift in solemn leisure (whether will or chance or fate) like shining broken windows (not shy not strong not vain) their wings catch specks of twilight (the eddies hold them fast). Three pulled toward the lake … More Casting Die

Phantom Limb

Out in a windswept January night under the black quilt of sky that is tucked tightly over the Keweenaw peninsula, the stone foundation of a barn lies unsleeping; instead she’s feeling, like a phantom limb, the heft and surety of the hay mow, the ache of splintered barn boards, the impatience of the rusted tractor, … More Phantom Limb

Auld Lang Syne

Adam’s heart suddenly shuttered but now dives and flutters in a waiting rib cage not his own – a cardinal who lost his song he hopped up strong, he perched on the sill and pecked at the pane he pecked at the pain asking to be let in to be let out so another could … More Auld Lang Syne

Alone I Went

Alone I went, I went alone to the rollicking Christmas tree farm; the saw was sharp, sharp was the saw that tucked itself under my arm –  I felled a tree, the tree now mine and i cradled it there in the snow men swaddled it tight with loops of twine and i stood it … More Alone I Went

Fire and the Deep

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

The Lights Flicker Once, Last Call in Suamico

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