Wednesday, March 31, 2021


Daybreak exhumes
the edifice from the night
and lights its many gilded eyes.

Friday, March 26, 2021


The river thunders. 
In fits, the mist lifts over
the bridge, and a hierarchy
of green climbs the cliffs
till crowning the falls.
Dr. Williams, do these
things hold ideas?

Friday, March 19, 2021

Thursday, March 18, 2021


I'm starting a series of small poems that are pictures, real or imagined.

My window 
frames you, dove, 
frozen above 
the naked oak.