zinc words & images

  • Musings on a single topic #4

    What is fruitful? Lying Being honest Confessing love, If you don’t mind a bruised heart Staying in the shadows on a hot day My fruit bowl, red with a pedestal My mouth, during peach season Opening the windows when it is cool out Writing thank you notes Writing your grandmother Laughing with people you care…

  • The Return of Spring

    I bloom when I speak, When the rain beats the windows, When I recline in the sun.   I bloom, if you remember, When you ask, who is the artist- The one who teaches the future.   I bloom when I nap, Softly breathing, dreaming beneath A tartan print blanket.   I bloom at night,…

  • Poem Up at High Shelf Press

    My poem, A Night’s Movement, is up at High Shelf Press. Find me alongside some really amazing artists and writers here.

  • Feast

    A crisp edge on my plate At Le Quartier. I’m Reminded of the Saline oysters which Hemingway consumed And then described. Perhaps It is less the food than A feeling of timeless Observance. A table, A chair, sustenance and Pleasure. If the day is Cloudless, fine, but with A few clouds all the Better. In…

  • Musings on a Single Topic #3

    What is a gift? “Lover You Should’ve Come Over” and every single person that covers it. This body, as broken as it is. My magnolia tree and fresh bread and good butter. Mark Rothko. The intersection in front of Mother India, and the beautiful fragrance I can smell while stopped at the red light. The…

  • Filigree

    My heart wants a thing It cannot name. Spreading Among rose bushes and Pushing toward sandstone walls, In a way it is directionless, Yet knows where it goes. Beyond Desire, to be taught by the sky’s Pigment and nurtured by salt Scraped from the ocean’s body. I cannot envision the place it Will come to…

  • Musings on a Single Topic #1

    What is left behind? Me You We Paper clips and candy wrappers Friends from high school Friends from college A car, in the parking lot of a bar, when you’ve had too much to drink A CD, a favorite one, in 1998, in your ex’s car Doggie bags full of leftovers A credit card A…

  • Grower Hope

    Holding this blueberry in my hand, I do not know where it came from or how it will grow. The ground is too shallow here, stained with saltwater and filled with debris. Skree is really all it is, no place for this tiny thing to root. I must be delicate, otherwise its blue will leave…

  • Dinner

    I say a prayer Over This plate of rice And question whether I am worthy Of One Single Grain. I know this is not What prayer is for. There is no comfort In silence. And the wintering Of my bones Is the only answer To my questions. Short and hard Are my days, The design…

  • Recording Device

    I can feel the beat. You walking through the door. Me listening at the door. The slightly humid room you would like to escape from. The air conditioning kicks on with a sputter as you turn it down one degree at a time like a safecracker. The shirts folded where you left them: in the…