Category: Poetry
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AprPAD — Day 17
At the Window, Late there’s something in the glass — not outside,not in. a shapethat moveswhen I don’t. I look straight at it,nothing. look away,there. again. it could be reflection.but of what? the room behind medoesn’t hold that outline, and the garden,too stillfor that kind of shifting. light changes it.or makes it. I can’t tell.…
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1804: Spring Thoughts
A Cadralor Poem for the Apostle Trees I.not bare anymorebut still mostly rememberingwinter in the wood II.the old lime treedecides, one small leaf at a time,to return to itself III.between old branchesspring lights its smallest candlesand waits for wind IV.the sky moves through itblue caught in the blackened limbslike breath through prayer V.not yet in…
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AprPAD — Day 16
Eyes Closed, Garden sensory mapping it’s a new way of seeing.eyes closed. flagstones, rough through the soles.the first before the first is loose.then three.then level — eight even paces.four steps up.grass. lavender, a breath from my right,held high. the birdbath beyondfuller than yesterday.rain speaks in levels. I map the morning in scent:apple blossom; April wind,Cox…
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AprPAD — Day 15
A CHILD OF DRYADS she faces stormslike rigging in a north wind stillcalmcloth drawn taut she watches waves water that oncedragged her under she remembers the taste the sky above it bitter, unmoved dragons in the water —white-scaled, pebbles gaspinginto mist she knows what lives below the wavesbreaks on shore and keeps her footingwhere the…
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AprPAD — Day 14
Day 14: write a poetry form and its anti-form (I chose poetry form: haiku 5-7-5 and reverse haiku 7-5-7) Haiku:hidden from my viewhoofbeats stitch the morning air sunlight listens in Reverse Haiku:ghost hooves, hear them echoingthrough the falling hushwhere only dawn dares to rise Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: form…
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AprPAD — Day 13
The Problem That Was Never Yours she typed into the darkand sent it to my door what’s your problem? three wordsthat weigh too much I could have caught the rockthrown it back instead I don’t have a problembut it seems you do enough my grandmother taught mehow to stop the first stone refuse the target…
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1304: The Liturgy, Part 8
Liturgy for the Mechanical DarkNight on the Rhône, Half Light and Awake I. The Weight of Sound Sound has become a weight.Not noise—noise is fleeting:a shout, a clatter; this thingshuffles marrow in bone. This is weight:the engine’s pulse hammering my bonesuntil sleep feels mechanical,a function rather than a rest. Lanterns shake in their brackets.The floor…
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AprPAD — Day 12
Traveling Music for a Blackbird It’s always been so a cat,dogs,a fox, sometimes,squirrels,mostly birds some need more than I can givesome only need to know morninglight through tulipsdaffodil seedheads swelling I had not slept well a blackbirdnear the fernsstill as stone I warmed a towela dish of water wrapped she stayed quietwhile I hummedold traveling…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The First Crocus (Or: How to Philosophise a Flower) The Old Woman kneels in the still-cold soil,points to a brave spear of yellow poking through frost and forgotten leaves,“Look,” she whispers.“Spring.” The cat pads over,sniffs delicately …then draws back as if offended by hope. “Hmm.A small, yellow invader.Uninvited.Asserting itself.” She smiles.“It’s a flower, not a…
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AprPAD — Day 11
Home when they sold the housesomething stayed behindthat I could not return to I was twentyliving alonein rooms that knew my namebut not my weight after that — heat that pressed against the lungsstreets that ran before they burnedmeals I could not name and always,a rhythmI had to learnwith my whole body and I learnedhome…
It's Still Life 