Category: Poetry

The vine did what the vine intended – climbed the oak in summer then stopped in autumn, slowed its slitherContinue Reading

“Connectedness, community, and love that is awe inspiring in the African American community,” was the challenge for artists attending theContinue Reading

The old recliner under the maple on the curbside waits, fated for pickup, by some scrounging passerby.   The naggingContinue Reading

Question   A permission gate opens   narrower than the light that seeps through an egg crack.   Permission toContinue Reading

I can’t see why they call you the moon— visible, invisible, pulsing light. Not solid, with your bell jar topContinue Reading