Wednesday, June 27, 2012


there is the innocence of love,
white as a sheet pulled
from a sun-kissed line

and shades of misunderstanding
that begins as a bruise
then runs crimson from the tongue

know that what is true
has held every error that ever was
and released them like doves

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Evening Grosbeak

you fell from the trees like ash,
tumbled down in your dappled suit
and knocked at my door

I heard your cheery petition,
smacking that beak like a castanet
and all of your fellows near
with their yellow caps tilted
to show me that one hungry eye

you will ruin me with another bag of seeds,
hefting it out there in an unseasonable rain,
that dripping down my neck while you wait

the sparrows told me
that you are only passing through,
filling up for a flight north

shouldn't you have gone by now?

and they say that you have a reputation
for such things,
ransacking feeders up and down the valley

I wonder if you are alright,
that life is good and your undulating flight
will be there tomorrow

never mind about the seeds,
I have seen how the sun catches your girl
in the morning, a black white whir across the yard