a great blue heron watches from a mogul of grass as I scavenge a poem from the marsh Tom Peepety calls

The taste of winter ice Dug in August from the sawdust Of Conley’s ice house The slap of the screen door On Grammy’s porch

GRAVE POEM: EDITH MUDGET… How is it that I, who kept my hou… And, indeed, my life, and the live… Of my family, in perfect order; I, who made the beds before they w…

There is an even-handed justice in… No senility forgiven, but caught a… Blood and flesh, bone and marrow To feed the life of another, And back to the earth that gave it…

the darkening hills a triumvirate of crows in the glowing gloom

surf and turf of St. Andrews olde salts and bullshit under one blue tarp gossip thick as molasses sparks quick as match-lit gas

it was always said that of all the people on the Island I loved life the best I who had the least but I had all I needed

the universe opens accepting my homecoming sky races by

grey rocks flowering in melting fu… first blooms of March after winter… a flock of ducks is muttering in t… the first light of day to brush th… shakes the branches they reply…

Many times, my father, drunk upon… “Spare the rod and spoil the child… Swung his belt and lay the stripes… To cleanse my soul. And I, drunk upon memory and whis…

My queen for a day My man’s is in drag again Halloween party

see them standing in glass houses clutching stones of fear anxiety suits and shoes boots and jeans makeup and hair powdered and perfumed

In the universe Of winking stars is there one Who also wonders?

a cold moon filters down through the purple asters no explorers have returned with caterpillar robes and dandelion gold

the silence of colour palette of fall reflected on water white birch trees granite rocks