bleary-eyed father runs down the trail seeking something, perhaps resembling silence inside the crooked walls of the shingled shack below not seeing with eyes but rather feeling with memory spring in the earth around him struggling also to arrive again this year late empty bird feeder in willow tree budding down-hill reaching for the runoff … Continue reading Dream-verse
inside disregarded shack full of and haunted by long-ago written poems dust is falling through angled light columns to threadbare rug and faded painted plywood from outside i imagine i am inside with clear mind hot tea, focused and working and not outside with dogs and jobs and kids and houses and money in mind … Continue reading Inside the Poem Home
Found this piece in the shack yesterday, hadn't been inside in a few weeks and the paper on which this poem was written was actually covered in hoarfrost as were the walls and ceiling of the shack (yes, it's un-insulated). I wrote this piece back in December one night when I was contemplating sleeping out … Continue reading Finding a Place
Down there I pointed to the bottom of the trail winding in gentle curves to the left then right then left again down salmonberry covered slope the appraiser's camera shuttered in her delicate hands capturing a glimpse through leafless late fall stalks, the southeast corner of the yabyum shack, the home for poems later, reading … Continue reading Shack or Boathouse?
At high tide water the color of Finnegan's eyes nearly covers path to the poet's shack where dust has settled on the poet's tools in the house poet holds his son Finnegan their eyes seeing only the other Finnegan's eyes are a turbulent ocean inlet or the sky before rain blue but for the gray … Continue reading Baby in poet’s arms