POETRY
“Poetry’s work is the clarification and magnification of being.”
Poetry comes from the body, the stored energy of those moments that metabolize into words through attention and effort and practice. Poetry is the everyday life from where one lives and has lived. It bubbles up into thoughts that become words, words from a conversation with surroundings and one’s emotional being.
Take out the trash, and there’s the yellow moon and a dream from youth. Hike the October woods, and the leaves and stream gather you into the flow of earth’s past and forever. See the sun’s slant on the kitchen wall, weep for yourself and humanity.
Currently, I am completing a first full collection of poems adapted from the concept of Japan’s 72 microseasons.
Published Poems Online & in Print
“A Galaxy by the Pond” Vita Poetica, Autumn 2025 Issue
So much is invisible, under skin,
under water something in
the anima untouched by reason.
“The Garden” Vita Poetica, Autumn 2025 Issue
As we grow into skin that has waited so long for us to enter it,
so the garden, loosened in rain, is stretching its dirt in all directions,
“Mirrors of the Overstory” Kosmos, “Reflections on Water” Volume 25, Issue 2, March 2025
The leaves accept all precipitation, multiply and shine outward—
mirrors of the overstory, of deer and darting wings,
human passersby, God.
“Bilateral Impression” Kosmos, “Reflections on Water,” Volume 25, Issue 2, March 2025
The rising tide slides in organizing my feet and body
in a pool of reality. The daydream lingers but the plumes
spread the sky into a lattice of distorted crisscrosses—
thin clouds that float like angels or ghosts.
“Tantric” Fourth River, “Tributaries,” May 2025
falling without sound
flung chaotic without rustle,
burnt brown oak leaves pile—
“Flood Warning” Heavy Feather Review, “The Future,” April 2024
The glistening fern bow, soaked,
spilling stardust guts
We stare with no reply
standing in purple rubber boots
“The Cliffs of Slieve League in November” Litbreak Magazine, February 2024
Let the mist stir your blood from this percussion.
Time so finite, brilliance so fleeting.
“Of Early Morning, Daisies” Fresh Words: An International Literary Magazine, April 2025 (E-Edition), Print Edition
Once, we admired the voiceless conversations
of garden daisies, the way they crowded
and nestled each other or turned towards the sun
slanted to give space to the newest blooms.
“Under a Nearing Saturn, 2022” Fresh Words: An International Literary Magazine, April 2025 (E-Edition), Print Edition
That night, from all the trees,
all the homes, bedazzled eyes of untold
mammals rose skyward.
“Riverside Benches Speak Low” Fresh Words: An International Literary Magazine, April 2025 (E-Edition), Print Edition
Prairie sunflowers
track sun’s motion across brighter skies, lean—
seeds inside mature like hearts;
“Autumn Light” Moonstone Press, 27th Annual Poetry Ink, November 2023, print
how, standing there, leaves hushed and a-flutter,
death swings round a little closer.
“Mohawk Park” Moonstone Press, World Poetry 2025, February 2025, print
We watched the bird’s motion—
two wings pulled back & down, two wings pulled forward & up,
a catapult. All about us a northern breeze
in our hair — fringed sedges rose near milkweed clusters.
“Bodies of Love” Moonstone Press, S/He Speaks 3: Voices of Women and Trans Folx - November 2024, print
How easily glossy night enters
day, giving and receiving pearly
movement of light
“Absence of Life” Moonstone Press, 29th Annual Ink - February 2025, print
Only a glint of minnow silver
lingers at the very edges where
thick watermeal pond scum is cracked,
“Symbiocene” Moonstone Press, Haiku 2025, February 2025, print
self-similar bare
branch webs impasto the sky—
we curl to winter
“Sticks & Stones” Moonstone Press, Remembering Sylvia Plath, October 2023, print
sometimes
a straight edge blade
is handy though
to cut through the crap
find clarity in chaos
“Under Water” Poetry Super Highway, January 2025
a biome gone, now
a black moving sepulcher; hurricane,
hand in hand with unyielding nature—
“Blue Jay” Poetry Super Highway, January 2025
No song, no soft gray underbelly—
brilliant unmistakable blue, so blue.
“Skyfall” Poetry Super Highway, January 2025
next to this white iris
towering in fullest bloom,
open flared scalloped petals,
sheer layered queen,
impossible delicacy—
rot will seed
flow of seen
and unseen.