Before the Last Petals Fall

Hopefully my third book of poetry, which I'm in the process of writing.


Days Like This to Be Read as Honey

For the child I never had I would give you: the honeydrip of low sun on the horizon; a cold that sugar-coats mountain tops, collides cells and atoms...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Fair Maids of February

Necks arched like swans, their flickering leaves scull the frost-fringed moss, last year’s rain-gnawed leaves where the bright beaks of blackbirds...