Awakened, I Looked Up To See
September 21, 2021
Moon waxing gibbous/ in cotton candy twilight;/ ravenous, my heart/
Category: Wisconsin
coronation
August 22, 2021
the queen is dead long live the queen I kneel in the twilight river my knees on the sand I plunge myself under and break the surface to the north I baptize myself I am a new creation the water rolling into the water the water taking the water back again the light shattering across … More coronation
Shelley Sailed By Poetry
July 10, 2021
Don’t try it. If you try to sail by poetry, you are lost. You will wash up on shore 10 days after you drown, face down with a spavined copy of Keats’ poems in your back pocket, your heart a stone that does not burn, instead of gliding into a harbor with the late afternoon … More Shelley Sailed By Poetry
Behold This Pint of Oatmeal Cream Ale
June 20, 2021
Consider the fullness, the halfness, the bare dented space on my ring finger as I hold the pint, the sun and the foam sliding down the insides of my glass. O regard the Great Pandemic! The maskers and the anti-vaxers, the moats we’ve dug around ourselves – it’s far from over, but nevertheless when I … More Behold This Pint of Oatmeal Cream Ale
Grand Rapids Bridge
May 29, 2021
Early evening sun/ Caught under the arches/ Words stuck in my throat
News Item: Loons’ Wings Ice Over
May 18, 2021
And they fall to earth in Northern Wisconsin – Pembine, Antigo, Lakewood – I know how they feel, wings coated with ice, heavy, so heavy the loons can’t lift them one more time and, realizing it is out of their hands, or rather, out of their wings, the only thing to do is pick a … More News Item: Loons’ Wings Ice Over
Untraveling
April 24, 2021
A few miles past that fucked-up intersection coming off of the Chicago Skyway – the toll booth, the gaping hole in the road, the circle left and then allemand right demanded by some depraved square dance caller – I-65 shakes off the big city and, like any good Midwesterner makes a good and straight line … More Untraveling
April 18 Baiku
April 19, 2021
Leafless butler trees/ Serving up platters of sky/ Our bellies growling/
The House on Monroe Street
April 11, 2021
That I am going to walk through today with a stranger has more rooms than I need and needs more money than I have and I don’t need all that space now but it is old and has a wide porch that looks over the Fox River, flowing north, and it has enough room for … More The House on Monroe Street
Sap, Rising
March 14, 2021
this blustery March afternoon I’m crossing what is still my back yard for a time drill in hand, a spile, a bright blue bag – 38 degrees, sandals skirting dried dog poop among brown leaves that fell, bright, the autumn before; the hole on the underside of the spile, yesterday confounded me but the sap … More Sap, Rising
Halfway North 