i cuddle, gripping firm the pillow’s shrine
a taste of acrid absence. love, not there.
grasping still to treasures, that were not mine
my widowed joy, now free of cherished care ...

She, who is no longer living
Under her mother’s wing,
Who is flying in the wooded land,

Between tree limbs,
Through seasons warm, wet ...

I am privileged to teach music students, and as a writer, I think it important Berklee students understand the history and connection between lyrics and poetry. I start each class with either a poem or song lyrics, which I treat…

Coltrane, cool train
taking vinyl track
with swerve
and verve, hip dip
curve of lip, gravity ...

 

The suit’s new,
Shoes too!
I have never seen a coffin before,
and this open lid is inviting everyone in. ...

Be the one to squeeze my hand, \ As I gaze at the freckled beauty of life \ Be the one to keep the mug of spent coffee, \ On the bright side of the shadows, \ ...

Tres poemas al vuelo La historia de estos poemas es singular. Cuando el avión que nos llevaba a la isla de Guadalupe comenzó su descenso, recordé que la noche anterior había dejado (estratégicamente), los poemas escritos para esta ocasión (CPA…

  1938. “Come in before the house fills up with flies,” says the woman in the doorway, hair tightly wound in a bun. I follow her into a dark-paneled foyer, through the musty parlor of the hostel on Willesden Lane.…