Lit Poetry

you are a knot of negative space. you are unraveling. you seek comfort in areas of doubt. (this is not a love poem. it never will be.) the...

A plaque on the Salem Tavern says, “George Washington slept here.” It’s true, it’s well documented, and my daughter doesn’t care. She’s not a fan.  She hasn’t been since...

Painting leaves of many colors Like a robe once worn Forever young   Sewing quilts of many colors Like house guests of old Come back again   Beading all the many colors Like...

At eight years old we know weather advisory gray, know what is coming. We all have our discs at home, the wax to make them fast. Sleds, snow...

Birds hang Emma Fox’s laundry. She is the State Flower of Long Island. Emma Fox sits next to me in chorus class and I hope there’s scientific...

On the Interstate, my daughter tells me she only has two questions.  I’m relieved because she usually has two hundred. I say, Okay, let’s have them, and...

Traveling to the house of born and raised, I dredge a map from muscle memory.   If I said the bones called me home, I’d be taking the...

A “(for don’t we all crave beauty and contamination)” ~  Priscilla Sneff For CB: friend, fellow writer, dream interpreter extraordinaire A A I fissured the shells open, exposing...

We shared books that summer and conversation. What would it have been like to repair and then sail a boat?   We discussed the underlying themes, wondering   what we would salvage if...

They’ll tell you that Kentucky bluegrass isn't really blue. But perhaps they've never seen it at that curious moment when the ground wakes up and yawning...