After Stephen Philbrick. They say the mysteries of the heavensAre nothing compared to the mysteries of the seasWhose leagues we cannot fathom,Whose depths we take for grantedUnderfoot, our terrestrial backyard….
Stranger, you are welcome hereRegardless of the laws of men and womenWho don’t see that freedom can’t be contained by a wall.This land, always yours to claim, as much as…
When they said he won, they meant release the prisoner––you––from her cage. You can gaze at the trees again. Look at them glow in the November sun––the leaves on the…
In November 2016, I started writing new lyrics to Katharine Lee Bates’s beautiful hymn. Throughout the last four years, I have added verses. Today, I wrote this. O beautiful DemocracyWhere…
Another thing I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to love until college was squirrels. My babysitter in New York would take me to the park, and when I’d point my…
Blessed are the meekFor they haveLearned to softenlike the clay at the bottomOf a riverAnd so they move,ProteanDiffusiveAmphibianNever attachedNever dryNever crackedNever broken becauseChoosing porousnessThey know nothing is wholly theirsWhich means…
Remember the Trump signs that appeared like mushrooms overnight, shocking in their foreignness, isolated on the traffic island, and how they could not shake your faith? Remember the pungent blue…
These are re-written lyrics to the 1998 Nields song “Last Kisses.” David Nields, who wrote the song, has given me permission to revision this for 2020. My poem #2. We…
I remember that other November. Eight blessed days of itUntouched by what it would become;The extra hour a sweet gift After one last revelry:We wore Hillary as hopeHillary as superheroThe…