The Second Year After Your Death

Your beauty, thought and whim, the doom  & awe of a wild rain

Walking to Belfast Friends Meeting yesterday, I looked down Union Street toward the horizon to what seemed an impenetrable matte-white cloud bank below which a sliver of arctic blue sky offered itself. I stopped and reached out my hand as if to peel back the clouds to reveal just a…

My fat-throat spits tears everywhere, tears

I could tell you the story or you could imagine the sadness of autumn

May 10, 2022 —

Anything I can muster as evidence the smell of your coat still hangs in the closet from our bed, thick-sleep crusts from my eyes the…

for my daughter

I’m so quick to share happy, quirky, anything nature (not roadkill), writing I am working on, my political dissatisfaction. Hey, Social, gripe with me, cheer for me, dance with me, read me: You are my peeps. The content that attracts me isn’t so different. Scrolling, I’m drawn-in, in that digital…