WATERMARK

a poet’s notebook

Established 02004

loss

June 10, 2004

Richard and Judd

Today, at the market, a middle-aged couple, squeezing tomatoes. They remind me of you, one gaunt, grey, with sharp cheekbones; the other large and reddish. I remember you exiting the plane at the Missoula airport, both in huge fur coats, New York queers and proud of it. Christmas, and you two glittered and grinned brighter… Continue reading

Poems

death, grief, Judd Polivka, loss, poem, poetry, richard brogan, syllabic
May 16, 2004

Small Losses

Rainbow Wonder January 01999 – May 02004 quiet Sunday morning the empty birdcage Continue reading

Critters, Personal, small poems

death, grief, loss, parakeet, pet
March 18, 2004

Goodbye

On New Year’s morning, 1992, it snowed. You shivered, touched me, kissed me, said you loved me. I waved goodbye to you and went into the winter. Wind cut through your bones like knives, your skin, it was so cold on New Year’s morning, 1992 you died and I did not. I dreamed I knew… Continue reading

Poems, villanelle

grief, loss, poem, poetry, villanelle
March 4, 2004

Abigail’s Leaving

Amidst signs of early spring — soggy lawns, bare pavement, dirty snow, rain — friend/daughter Abigail leaves today for England. This house will seem empty. Continue reading

Family

leaving, loss, spring

Ancestral (Artificial )Intelligence

I do not use AI to write. For me, writing is how I think, and I prefer to do it myself. If/when I post anything here that I suspect or know to be AI generated, I will tell you.

I have changed this from Artificial to Ancestral, after Abi Awomosu @ Substack. This medium was made with human history, human thought. All of it, bright and dark. It is ancestral.

Poems

Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.

In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.

It is likely to be — it is best if it is — a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.

A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think — but it is not necessarily biographical.

loss

Richard and Judd

Small Losses

Goodbye

Abigail’s Leaving