Jon
Somewhere, Jon, somewhere
a faith rises…
Category: Grief
Underneath the Echo
It’s like blow in a hollowlike didgeridoo —a coo into madnesslow slung lowhammock of an old song— numb, the breeze of hercool like swallow Come songCome song come gut come…
Silk
Published in “La Piccioletta Barca” — Issue 19 — May 2020 https://www.picciolettabarca.com/issues/issue-19
Kennebecs and Tomatoes
Ah, that first year – when we still imaginedour sustenance – those first kennebecs,huge in the manure field, papered like birch,soft as creamed cheese. Dave’s mom planted there, but she…
The Crumpled Snow
The orange slim line of the chopper overheadMeans only one thing here – certainty.Certainty that northeast of where I standIs a near departure,Perhaps wedged behind a wheel.I will count the…
Suits
I can smell my own pits,my night sweats,sucked up in my weekunwashed robe. I am disgusted. And yet, there,in the garment bags,lingered in your suits,your suits I brought homefrom your…
I Will Not End My Grief
Could there be a requisite span of mourning – some sentence meted out by the dead to be thrown black out into a day without – wistfully walking away? I…
Sweet and Bitter Greens 