March 2010

  • Snapshot 17 March 02010

    This room, its comforts, soft sheets, firm bed, the white noise machine pretending to be the sea — one dog curled at your feet, the other twitching with her own nightmares on her own bed — ceiling fan casting dust & air on the Asian silk carpet. The bed clothes are obstreperous. They wrinkle &… Continue reading

  • 2010 03 march snapshot poem

    if i were to tell youeverythingbare twisted branchesagainst a graying sky if i were to tell youdreams thickwith familiar strangersone of them always you a few birch leavescling yellow to the tree an empty red mailbox a white black-tailed cat the dog coughing pawing at her mouth her enlarged heart still beating  this to say… Continue reading