Poem: The Poet’s Wife
Sometimes I post my poetry here on my blog. I still have the painting mentioned in this poem, which is I am showing here. The Poet’s Wife The poet’s tiny…
Poem: From the backseat of my aunt’s Chevy
From the backseat her red hair an accusation. Thin, careworn, and cunning burnt forever by that long-ago season; she knows the wrong things. Dissolute pools trapping the blue sky, her…
Poem: Why do I remember this?
Why do I remember? I’ve carried this, and now–see?–here it is. Guided by a compulsion (that has never left me) I painted the walls of my mother’s house the entire…