Poetry Poetry is the heart Written with the mind We poets try to express what makes Our pumping vessels swell and contract So that others may know their living meaning Because we can’t know our own Until we write it 4. 11. 2021 Woodpecker Before the rain, I brought a book outside and heard the woodpecker Chomping to find the heart. I looked up and a breeze blew yellow swathes from high in the loblolly pines Before the grey skies shadow the brightening sun [...] more

Migraine has subsided a bit. I’m outside. It’s a beautiful, breezy afternoon. These days happen from time to time. If I were up north, it would seem like summer leaning into fall, a breeze to blow in winter from the sea. But there’s no winter in its warmth. It’s freshly baked bread coming out of an oven. A day for a sail, a walk in the changing gold and grey light of clouds passing quickly like time reels on film. It’s the kind of day [...] more