Mt. Zion Baptist (audio only)
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Midnight Air in Louisville
for Breonna Taylor
Dear Breonna,
How many times, I ask,
how many times
have I chased the thought
of writing to you,
of catching the poem where
it cannot leave,
of knocking open the door to a grief
2022
This Morning, This First Poem
It is the first day of the year again, this time in the quiet absence of Portlandia, we have our own quiet way of entering the spaces between the seconds of life, where time fades. The fire makes a noise, inside here where ice and snow make the earth frozen, press us to guess what weather will do now as weather becomes a matter of climate with no divination. I listen to your napping, air going inside to fill you with warmth from the fireplace, air going out to let your soul teach the world what it is to make the journey to the heart. So this first poem the day a golden ret
2018
The Silver Thread
The fern gathers where the water seldom goes
unless the storms swell this world of wise choices,
the loud trickle of clear tongues of the stream
licking the edges of rock, while up ahead a curve
hides tomorrow from our crystal ball, the thing
we are afraid to admit we have, the guarantee
we hide from faith. In the woods our dog is lost
2017