another daydream

another daydream

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

little poem on a high shelf

Thanks to High Shelf Press for publishing "Onrush," which can be found in issue VIII on their site, as well as in print via Amazon or Barnes and Noble. This gorgeous issue showcases writing, art, and photography (

Tuesday, July 9, 2019

Community Poem

Art Show Guestbook

There’s art in the woods.
The outdoors.
My playground. My medicine.
The treatment works when the fly
shoos me.
Creative spirit may go into hiding,
but doesn’t disappear.
I took my knitting to a Quaker meeting.
An artist’s soul is in the art.
A repurposed church,
a freestanding gate.
Two random tourists
making random artist friends.
Lost River magic…
hope to be a transplant soon.
Sometimes words are home.  
Thank you for being normal.
Eating art, nourishing the soul.
Still not raining yet…
sometimes words are hard.
I want to give her the word
she’s looking for.

~ LCMH and the voices of visitors to Art on Cullers Run

This community poem was built in a poetry tent in Mathias, West Virginia. 
Thanks to all who wrote, spoke, and stopped by!

Tuesday, July 2, 2019

"Couples Fugue"

Couples Fugue

“Every marriage tends to consist of an aristocrat and a peasant.”––John Updike

In every marriage one is royal while the other is loyal.
One and other rotate periodically around a periodic table
…the royal sits at the head, loyal at the side, until a fugue
starts a round of musical chairs; and this is where they
see eye to eye, watching each other for a cue to stop
the music, as if the royal or the loyal were an impostor,
and a wizened magician composed of the chemistry
that attracted them at first wields a staff that wriggles
like a snake…smack in the middle of their shenanigans.


This poem is also featured in today's column "Next Line, Please" of The American Scholar:

Friday, June 28, 2019

Event: Art on Cullers Run

July 5th and 6th, 10 am to 5 pm

If you find yourself along the Lost River, amid mountains of the George Washington National Forest, in Mathias, West Virginia––stop by
and visit me at Art on Cullers Run. 

This is a showcase of beautiful work by local artists and artisans, and I've weaseled in to host a poetry table. Actually, I was invited––my rustic (second) home is in these same mountains. 

Wednesday, June 19, 2019



Don't worry about your remains.
Eat your existence to the pit,

then spit the impermeable core
––impossible to swallow––

along fallow fields 
that rest and till Elysian. 


Friday, June 7, 2019

"The Odds"

The Odds

It’s impossible to love the same person twice
unless twice divides before and after…
how it was before now, after my impulse
to toss a pillow into the pond, to quell
something that was suffocating,
the closest thing at hand, and

it failed to sink.
What are the odds? We stood looking
at an embroidered pillow we hauled
all the way from Asia as it floated
like a mandala, delighting our stymied eyes.


Sunday, May 26, 2019

Emily Dickinson Defends the Letter

Mollusk and Mail

A Letter is a joy of Earth––
It is denied the Gods––
Though Godspeed may prevail
––when it is deemed a snail.

Admire then the Snail––
A coiled envelope that seals
the softness of a living thing
––discerned in words


Note: the first two lines are a fragment of Emily Dickinson's writing; the rest is my response to a prompt from "Next Line, Please" to complete the poem. Also published here: 

Friday, May 10, 2019

"Her Property"

Her Property

This tenement of lies
defeats the skies

to a squalor
unbecoming her.

She rummages
for goods that damage.

In the sick of unsleep,
the roof sags and weeps.

How how how 
fate kisses her brow,

arcs her to a rainbow.    
Gold streaks of hair show

glimmers of a treasure
sequestered in her nature.

If she knows she counts,
this will amount

to enough for supplying
the cost of living.