Counted On
young passengers on long car trips would sometimes count birds or fenceposts to fight off boredom the mind making order when it seemed there was only…
Training to Walk the Rim of the World
A stout rope strung a foot off the ground in my neighbor’s yard, stretching from early morning far into the night is for practice. Kafka isn’t…
poems by Rachel Loden
From her collection called Hotel Imperium. not recent, and focused on Nixon, but timely now also…..
Spacing the Alphabet
1. we fish the muddy creeks of ordinaries to see if what we think we’re hungry for attests or churns our current formulary if perch or…
Is This Easter?
We sit together talking quietly on a bench in a crowded mall while around us a strange wild city grows ever stranger fans its thousand pages…
About Good Friday
sitting in traffic, on the way toward some Place that seems to be moving away from us as we approach like a date that never showed…
Paralyzed At An Angle — Fourteen Lines
Poetry is always slightly mysterious, and you wonder what is your relationship to it. Seamus Heaney Rite of Spring by Seamus Heaney So winter closed its…
Death’s Neighbor Almost Remembers
our nearest neighbor always seemed amused at our misfortunes, even small mis-steps delighted him, our fickle fates seemed fused we never spoke as likely he’d refuse…
The Map by W. Szymborska
A terrific poem by one of my favorites
Beach Walking
a cup of black tea swallows me sip by sip from thinking to naked intuition goes beach-walking on a whim never to become habit nearing the…
The Dog Star 