The Sea Turtle
Shoulder-deep in the sea turtle’s nest,
I search for remains, nothing alive.
The tiny turtles would have climbed
over each other, forming a living ladder
out of their sandy birth canal
Tributes
The Hummingbird
I hate it when poets pretend they don’t know anything about their own writing processes and get arty and mysterious when asked about it, claiming in a zillion different ways that they ‘receive’ their poems from the Beyond, or that the poems already exist in the abstract and that they, the poet, just ‘discover them,’ etc. I’ve been hearing a lot of this kind of thing lately. I think it comes in waves.
Aubade For One Dismayed
Half-Alice in her milky, silky sheets
almost awake to the ache of another day
rebounding from her beaming ceiling,
grieved leaving the comforts of the night—
The Way a Psalm Can Begin
I’ll never figure out my part
in praying. How to even start.
Like the silent heron that lands
mid-scroll in the year’s low pond, I stand
waiting. Who said there were fish here?
What Is My Life About?
This naked, lonely question is still simmering in a crock pot on the counter …