September 1, 2017

Reading The Fountainhead While Fishing

The hardest thing to explain is the glaringly evident which everybody has decided not to see.—Ayn Rand

another           architect


September 1, 2017

After Tornado Warnings

Rain, banshee winds, stuttering lightning

slashed the sky all night.  An hour ago,

all the drama stopped. Disasters slunk home

not having broken a single window.

When I went to take out the trash just now,

the sky was smooth and rich as an altar cloth,


September 1, 2017

Near Meander River, Near Miletus

A blue tiller’s curved prongs

             rust toward red in some

                        farmer’s abandoned

field. One beetle crawls

             along a...

September 1, 2017

On Picnic at Hanging Rock

"Everything begins and ends at the exactly right time and place."

– Joan Lindsey

Sometimes I still wonder about Australia

and the Everywhen they keep lodged in rock.

My ex-boyfriend was different when he came home

from Melbourne.  I asked him what...

September 1, 2017

We Wake Beside an Invisible River

Fog swishing through Georgia pines

screens our world inside a Japanese dawn,

veils deer among flowering quince.

Yet through the scrim of mists

we see the Buddha at Kamakura,

small deer we fed at Nara,

cormorants with rings

around their throat...

September 1, 2017

 An Offering to Maya

“I gave birth to one child, a son, but I have thousands of daughters.  You are Black and White, Jewish and Muslim, Asian, Spanish-speaking, Native American and Aleut.  You are fat and thin and pretty and plain, gay and straight, educated and unlette...

September 1, 2017

February in Johnson, Vermont

At the Red Mill, coats decorate on wooden pegs, lumber plaid, New York City red.  They crowd each other, one hooked above another, squabbling for space.  Boots shorn, the stomp of wet snow on thin orientals.  The smell of butternut, risotto,...

September 1, 2017


We were away the night the car crashed

at the end of our lawn, but the glass shards

and twisted bits of metal we raked,

the carnations  tied to the trunk shorn of bark

told some of the story.  Today pink plastic

flowers and  a white tee shirt are tacked

to a telepho...

September 1, 2017




September 1, 2017

Evolution of a Good Idea

You want to know why, so I’ll start

at the beginning, when cosmic dust

coalesced in the great void. If a planet-sized

object had not struck Earth and cleaved

from its mantle a chunk of mass to spin

in its orbit, the moon would not exist,

nor tides...

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Brave: an interview with Nancy Mitchell, Poet Laureate of Salisbury, Maryland continued

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