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This Sacred, Unthinkable Day
Posted on November 13, 2022 Leave a Comment

Pushing through this sacred, unthinkable Day. Time has no reckoning over the love I hold for you in my heart — Deborah Garcia.
Still Life with Mother
Posted on September 22, 2022 7 Comments

I invite you to celebrate the birth of my mother in this poetic homage.
COUNTERTERRORISM
Posted on September 10, 2022 4 Comments

after Kerrin McCadden my husband’s portrait is in a collage behind glass on a museum wall of prayers his name is announced by the son who never spoke it his smile is cast into homes of people we don’t knowhis name echoes across a plaza where there used to be buildingshe’s a good dad who […]
VACATIONLAND
Posted on August 26, 2022 5 Comments

This poem is an elegy to the day my son and I released my sons’s ashes into the pond we haave been vacationing at since the boys were six and two-years old.
THERE IS LOVE
Posted on July 25, 2022 7 Comments

After Sharon Olds “I Go Back to May 1937” I see them standing at the nuptial threshold before their witnessesShe sees her groom smilingat the verge of the nacre vaultthe gloam blue waves climax like glisteningstrands of diamonds behind his profile, Hesees his bride with a stargazer lily in her hairstanding at the fringe made […]
RETURN HOME
Posted on April 8, 2022 Leave a Comment

29th Birthday message for my beautiful boy Davin: Arrival, April 8, 1993 at 12:33 PM. The day I held the World in my arms.
My Departed Darlings
Posted on February 22, 2022 2 Comments

This poem is the fifth of a 365-day project I began last week. Though my plans neither include completing nor posting my daily writings, I felt complled to post today’s exercise on this day of multiple duality, 2/22/2022.
On Being A Beginner, Again
Posted on February 17, 2022 Leave a Comment

I know how to do a lot of things. I know how to search for a missing person with a toothbrush and a comb. I know how to stage a funeral when there’s no body, and how to resurrect a broken one. I know how to take my child to a doctor when the bleeding […]
January 20, 1982
Posted on January 20, 2022 1 Comment

[In memory of Elizabeth “Lizzie”Anna Rieb, nee Teseny – September 22, 1943 – January 20, 1982] I think we know that nothing lasts forever. That every day something in our relationships, our social strata, our bodies, is ending. Let’s say your taxi-mom job is ending when your son drives himself to a movie in your […]