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The House on Tilden Avenue
Was a pair of trousers
With five pockets:
Strewn, wrinkled, gouged
Empty when Mom first told us
She was leaving it
To live with her new husband—
Her third boyfriend...
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
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Visions of a Teacher Come to Mind
Her look was warm as summer dawn,
there was a lightness as she stepped
as if the ground was almost a cloud,
her beauty a casual dream...
