New poems



She will do what she will do

no matter what words

your lips form into love knots,

no matter how long you stand

with your arms wrapping her sorrow.

There is nothing she will not do,

nothing held back. She is quicksand

seeded with landmines.

You must not walk here. Run.

Don’t look back. You could never save her.

Merciful Jesus, won’t you

gather her up like broken bread?

There is more than enough

to feed a multitude.





The miracle would be…

the miracle would be going back,

to before we did what we’ve done

to each other,

back to kindness, and loving

exactly how you came to me

raw and imperfect,

magic and raucous,

before I dreamed up all the ways

I might mold you

into something less mighty.

The miracle would be

waking up and discovering

heaviness dropped in the dark

and a wheel within a wheel, turning,

like a movie’s opening

repeating, repeating, repeating

the part where she

notices him, just briefly,

then carries on. The moment where

what happens next

is anyone’s guess.



    1. Believe it or not I’ve been soaking in all the uplifting words you and others have spoken into this aspiring poet for so many years! And gratitude is seeping into my bones. And resolve to be more, lean in more, work at this poetry thing until I feel I have done justice to it. Whatever that means, please know our connection and your kindness carry great meaning to me. And put fire in the belly, that too!!!!



      1. You my friend, have breathed like bellows – no half ways. Breathed in like gobbling and exhaled like, there, nothing left. And then chipped away the extraneous and left words hanging like sculpture…well! Courage is needed now, the world is choking on paragraphs designed to tear us apart, to keep us separated, to bind us to un-kindness. You go on. Filter those words. Make music. Or war. :-)


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