zinc words & images

  • Lasting

    We took a little Time off the top To think about The redundancy Of our lives. How we met And loved The words That came Across Our lips More than We loved One another. I sheltered you Like a seed Cupped in my hands And I was A penny to be saved. We agreed, No…

  • Where We Went

    Unwrap your teenage heart Like a chocolate dream. I miss the self that sings, the one that wraps string around her finger and waves. Lightening steps and electric belief was what we wanted and could never get. Not enough to satisfy. Rather, we became maudlin. Watched rises, stretches, untouched heartache, unmounted tenderness and lamented the…

  • 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…

  • Open heart

    Seeing you is a riot To my eyes. In it Is roiling memory And that sense (you may be   Feeling it, too) of each Rib cracking itself to Introduce my heart to The midday sun as it seeks   To brace itself against Recalling your closed Eyes, your hair pushed Behind your ear, whilst…

  • 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…

  • Invention

    People are capable. Marigolds become brittle. What was worn is new. Fire escapes rain down Particles of soil seeping through the drainage Holes of a city garden. It is in the rust That change comes And in the taut drum Sound. Golden polish buffed With an old t-shirt And ignored by children Looking at clouds.…

  • Measured

    I took the bird wing from the shelf And placed it in a pouch of red gingham. A bundle misshapen and lonely, save For its solitary companion, a tin ring, found trapped in the quarter slot Of a gumball machine. I do not know Where this gift will find its resting place. From my place…

  • The Young Architect

    In the fall, we would make a house and take turns being the mother. There were no walls, only an architect’s plan made of crisp, crepe leaves. Rake. Neat lines. Making sure to leave openings for the door.

  • Musings on a Single Topic #2

    What are phantoms made of? stardust memories The mist from lava dropping into the ocean ectoplasm open doors blowing curtains words spoke softly dim lamps with antique shades beaded curtains crackling branches padded steps on a wood floor lost loves good advice, in retrospect dappled forest light letters photographs portraits historic markers a large single…

  • 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…