The Fruit Detective
On the table, there are traces of orange blood. There is also astraight mark, probably made by some kind of […]
Audio, Humor, Poems, Tributes
Tributes
Lucky Ones
I was 17 when my father said, You are like her,
and handed me a biography of Sylvia Plath.
Yes, she and I had both pulled poems
like deli tickets from between
our ribs, had both slouched at the counter
of suicide and ordered up our demises.
My Breath Is Recycled
I would have loved Eric Garner!
Is this wrong to say?
Taken the weight of him in—
Sylvia Plath’s Handwriting
You thought she was your friend
and then you saw her s.
Her lower case i, with the
circle, the actual circle
instead of a dot.
Leaf Cutter
This is a poem for my neighbor, whom I watch walk through his garden every day. He lives alone. He sets up sprinklers. He trims leaves.
Dock Grade Road
If it weren’t for an old feud between the town
on the cliff and the town on the water
racing to get their berry crops to market,
this road would not have been built.