Soon
When I say the word walk, or even spell it, / the dogs leap up with flailing tails.
Tributes
Poems, Tributes
Any Hack Can Crank Out a Hundred Sonnets
Any hack can crank out a hundred sonnets if he has to; all you have to do is set up
Smoking Ceremony
You call me arsonist, mad firefly: our photos curl and crackle in the sink. Those years together burn—smoke thick with
A River Runs Through It
Not flows. Runs—watery
knees high, arms pumping,
breath steady and sure.
Not the whole river.
That would scare people.
F. Wayne Scott
Forgive us, Lord, for
when a loved one passes, we
ask ourselves: What next?
Years of devotion lead to this
necessary song that catches
every sad note.