the land rocky, hills greening with the spring •
returning, returning like a love lost Continue reading →
In the days before poems, we asked the sky •
what shall we do with all these bright, loose words? Continue reading →
…inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive. You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case. — Chuck Close Continue reading →
And then the closest thing to a slam sort of poem I think I’ve ever written, also written one day this week on the way to work. Continue reading →
The stars are caught in the tops of the trees Continue reading →
… is as if you were sitting at table in the winter with your ealdormen and thegns, and a fire was kindled and the hall warmed, while it rained and snowed and stormed outside…
