| Date |
Title |
Content |
|
rites of spring |
the bittersweet taste on my tongue... |
|
Degas' Obsession |
He doesn’t know why his brush leads... |
|
Farm Girl |
Alone, her white dress is a lamp for the... |
|
White |
is what I chose for the party
even though I... |
|
At Peace |
White dove in morning sun,
click-tick... |
|
Job's Answer |
Job is unwilling to let God take
everything... |
|
God's Weight as Absence |
Because I know it is me that You want,
why... |
|
a little zen |
Leap and the net will appear.
--Buddhist... |
|
The EKG |
Your heart beats are irregular, they tell... |
|
Killing Fields |
The land was good land and wild
And grew... |
|
Beauty |
O beautiful boy
How often I searched for... |
|
Dead Poets Party |
What do you think about having a... |
|
Ruins |
Only a door is left to
remind us of... |
|
The Coming of Winter |
It’s autumn. Leaves have taken over
the... |
|
Ride of the Future |
I want to ride my bike to the... |
|
For Elizabeth, after they removed life support today |
The door is open, dear
And it is time for... |
|
Disco Nights |
Footsteps and mad self-chatter,
Creak of... |
|
To All northographers |
Dear Friends, I know I have been lax with... |
|
On the Lake |
To be a good Minnesotan poet
there has to... |
|
Britt's Daughter |
An angel blooming in light:
Isn’t that how... |
|
In Bed |
Try to imagine
the sheets, cottony smooth,... |
|
This, do you ask? |
Where are you, little red bird?
Delicate... |
|
Jungle Song |
Voodoo woman sways to the rhythm of... |
|
The Stoning of Soraya |
Based on a true story
She struggled to... |
|
an unvalentine poem: The News |
Dawn roses on your face, your beautiful... |
|
Going to Paris |
Roll thump step step
Roll thump step... |
|
Sea Dreams |
I will stay with you as a wife, not a... |
|
Combing |
She is combing her hair and she thinks... |
|
I live here now |
Resurrected from the cave:
the oppression... |
|
Lynne's Totem Removed |
Here is something no one knows:
how I stole... |
|
a Santa Fe memory of autumn |
the rain is sad and the skies
fold down... |
|
Musing |
My muse is succulent,
she drips down my... |
|
Thirst |
You are mine, dark water
You are my... |
|
Afterwards |
Darling Lilith, keeper of secrets,
lover of... |
|
One Night Stand |
and so it begins
this descent into... |
|
Meet Me |
1.
He said, Meet me at the laundromat, 7 pm... |
|
glass slipper |
once upon a time
clock striking “Midnight!... |
|
baseball metaphors |
strike three you’re out
but determined.... |
|
Fire |
“You’re my husband,” she is calling to... |
|
No Cure for Broken Heart |
“There is no cure for a broken heart,” he... |
|
tropical heat |
sweat scrimmed forehead, drips down ribs,... |
|
Baptism |
I was afraid of the water, afraid
of its... |
|
Welcome Back! test |
Spring pour its amber honey on me
and the... |
|
Time to say good-bye....??/?!! |
Thank you all for being part of my welcome... |
|
Phone Message |
This is a dream, that I could fly to... |
|
The Flood |
I am blest to step under a shower, the gush... |
|
A Mexican Story |
Las ostras con limones,
there is only one... |
|
White Flag |
I promise that my publication party will be... |
|
On the Edge |
I am spring. I am green with an ache to... |
|
Where I Stand |
I remember when Martin Luther King died and... |
|
Penance |
The chair is hard, the room cold. This is... |
|
Letter to Gaia |
Dear Gaia,
I am sitting at a table in a... |
|
Britt's House |
Those boiled peanuts from the South,
was it... |
|
O Holy Night |
O Holy night! spilled like joy across the... |
|
Insomnia |
It’s another night of not sleeping. Can... |
|
Lullabies in a time of change |
He sings, “Baa baa black... |
|
not for the weak of heart |
the change is coming, blowing wind,
the... |
|
waiting for surgery |
Of course the air is cold while I... |
|
Merced, Merced |
This is actually not a response to the... |
|
a little ditty |
She’s ready, she thinks
the long highway... |
|
Not Yet |
In the chill of my room I gasp for... |
|
For the children of Haiti after the Hurricane |
all is as wing
all is as song
all is a... |
|
The Time Has Come |
The time has come to storm
and shake our... |
|
Italian Journey |
I was sure... |
|
Gratitude |
A house, refuge and rest,
cozy-cornered and... |
|
identity |
I thought it was my name perhaps
that was... |
|
identity |
I thought it was my name perhaps
that was... |
|
Camping at the Chama River |
She comes to the circle with dawn in her... |
|
This is not a poem |
Sometimes the world is achingly... |
|
What time did the blossom fall? |
1.
Still yet unfolding
for a sip of... |
|
falling to earth |
little bits of my heart flung... |
|
Juggling with Jewish History |
You juggle between the candle
of belief,... |
|
how to find the time |
in-between the child’s crying, the diaper... |
|
poem in sand and wavesz; I write |
for the sake of words
for cracking open the... |
|
Britt turning 50 |
with luck a salter’s fire
with luck a... |
|
Dancing with the Dark (for two voices) |
|
|
Survival: a poem in three voices |
Michael: In November we traveled: Las... |
|
what he found in the garbage |
a spatula melted into the shape of Saturday... |
|
how to write |
chant poetry fingertipped and skeined.
draw... |
|
I'm dreaming of Minnesota |
|
|
mother |
|
|
What are we in the language of earth? -- Yehuda Amichai |
(This is an old poem but I couldn't resist... |
|
The Two of Us |
I say to you this is a love beyond time
and... |
|
"I close my eyes, and think of water" --James Wright |
I close my eyes and think of
water. Water... |
|
Cater-cousin |
When you find me at the bottom--
When you... |
|
father and son |
you didn’t know how it would be,
child on... |
|
Child |
This is the before
time, before... |
|
The Real Reason We Sit Together and Breathe |
because love is here at the table
amongst... |
|
how poetry saved my life |
Behind the clever wit and flashing... |
|
Is it something I said? |
The students are restless around the... |
|
why I write poems |
because I already love you
because I want... |
|
If you dream of me, I will torch your solitude into flame, there will be nowhere to hide |
much better than television although I adore... |
|
In the back of my throat, words are born that cannot be swallowed |
You're right, this is... |
|
The Taste of Summer |
Sun, burn my skin
heat me up, Sun
until my... |
|
Waiting |
Sometimes I sit and wait and
nothing... |
|
waiting after midnight |
I wanted white roses. I wanted rain to... |
|
Fertile Crescent |
I collect poems
I gather them into green... |
|
With gratitude |
Britt, I enjoyed reading the essay State of... |
|
We the Forest Creatures |
In response to Alex's "What the Prince Said"... |
|
A Story 1982 |
Today is Good Friday and I am remembering... |
|
theater of all possibilities |
because you said yes. because the
night was... |
|
Roots & Wings |
Good Luck with the reading tomorrow night! I... |
|
Time |
This is how time has shaped us:
planted ... |
|
The Car Accident |
Just before
I saw
the road rushing up... |
|
driving |
I don’t drive
But if I did, I’d drive you... |
|
Looking for Love |
We have all stood in the place
of grace,... |
|
Red |
school prom refused. better
things to do.... |
|
My heart is a liar |
My heart is a liar
says I will love you no... |
|
Heaven |
Heaven: a slice of wonder
lying beside... |
|
Morning Mediation (repsonse to Mary Kay's poem) |
You sit in the morning with... |
|
Valentines Day: Do you still love me? |
This is my poem to the way we stand:
you... |
|
Anniversary of Lynne's death |
How do I take the measure of a man,
a... |
|
The Anniversary of Lynne's Passing |
How do we take the measure of a man
or a... |
|
First Man |
It is midnight. Everything is silent, but... |
|
Consolations |
perhaps I will run to the wind,
let the... |
|
Solstice Light |
Home for the holidays:
here, in my mother’s... |
|
A Map to the Center |
I am a pilgrim on a holy road
to the... |
|
She says, You can ask your future self to pray for you. |
in response to Julie's A Prayer for... |
|
Sacred Grove |
God-voice speaks in a bird, a snowflake,
a... |
|
Re-writing the poem |
Your throw-away lines are my salvation
your... |
|
Old Lovers send emails (if you manage to keep your email address) |
Old lovers send emails (a response to... |
|
Breakfast in Puerto Vallarta |
Church bells are ringing
and I want pan... |
|
Venus in pink |
responses to Britt and Alex's Venus... |
|
breakfast in Puerto Vallarta |
(in response to Alex's first draft)
(for... |
|
Shadows |
I picture you at the end of the bar,
your... |
|
Bo Radley's Secret |
Messages
It was a time of confidences,... |
|
Nothing to do with it |
This has nothing to do with it,
nothing to... |
|
Self Protrait |
|
|
Why she painted |
Only this—
held by the dark matrix
of... |
|
Wake Up America |
Oh America land of the free
land of the... |
|
what love may come |
not morning, although the quiet
is as... |
|
Migration |
I came out of the desert
aching for rain. I... |
|
The trail grows cold |
(in response to Trail by Julie Klatt... |
|
Falling |
See how we fall towards
earth’s dark... |
|
Sitting Out the Rain |
Let us suppose, for example,
I am sitting... |
|
Once and for all |
(to Bride)
Once and for all
Oh, I know... |
|
Stuff |
What passed through my hands would
have... |
|
Pilgrim at the tomb of Bibi Fatima Sam |
There is nothing she wanted more than
to... |
|
Saraswati |
“Within a dance there is stillness
within a... |
|
Saraswati |
Within a dance there is stillness
within a... |
|
Emptied |
More than anything
I would dream you back... |
|
The Door |
You are the reason I still love the... |
|
At Arlington |
At Arlington
This boy was my child:
with... |
|
Lust |
Lust
What would it be like to kiss
a... |
|
Only Light |
for
|
|
Where did the time go? |
She thought she must be lost but she... |
|
Ode to Death |
Ode to Death
There is a human beauty
in... |
|
Close Call |
(response to the image of the river in... |
|
Reyes de magica...House of magic |
to the photo
|
.jpg)