Ugly, but I made
it, my hands imparting new
life to odds and ends.


Maxfield Parrish

Girls on rocks artist
his blues so luminous they
named one after him

Embed from Getty Images

Winter sun

Summer is golden
butterscotch, January
skim milk, thin weak pale.

Embed from Getty Images

All nighter

Weighing sleep against
productivity, I write
into a new day.

Embed from Getty Images


Some–like white wine–are
best when young. My French Bordeaux
grows better with age.

Embed from Getty Images

On cutting off long hair

Strands layered, length chopped,
I change, shed years, fears, regrets.
Why’d I wait so long?

Snow blind

Spiraling flakes, like
small hands opening wide, feel
their way down to earth.