At Work

The Romantics wrote poemsto pay for European walking toursWordsworth and Coleridgetraipsing across the Alpswith boots and packsmade of words. Jules Verne quit his jobon the stock market, havingbrokered himself such agolden position, penningthe extraordinary, he pouredout jingling tickets withhis morning cereal. In classic Russian novelsthere are poets by tradenot just by name or naturefiery broodingContinue reading “At Work”

Poem prompt!

Because I subscribe to the Paris Review – one of the two magazines whose subscriptions I can’t bear to cancel yet even tho the rest have gone the way of economy (sigh) – I get daily emails from them with lovely poems. On the 22nd, the poem was the one you see in the aboveContinue reading “Poem prompt!”

Square Stroll

I took a slow stroll around the squareI saw a man witha Westie who ambushed children the woman from the cafelooking at real estatein a window three men with beardsdiscussing the theatre“And then, my character says. . . . “ a new fancy restaurantin the old post office buildingTexas Formal dress required the wonderful presenceContinue reading “Square Stroll”

The Man Asleep at the Library

slumped, socks and flipflopssnacks nearby, a can of wolf brand chilihis backpack stashed under a tablea corner chair, upstairssnoring lightly in the quiet section an exhausted seat of questions:does his bed not suit?does he have one?what four walls, or lackthereof, give him no rest?if he needed help,would he ask for it?or would he go onContinue reading “The Man Asleep at the Library”


At dusk the birds havea lot to say to each othereverybody has a lot ofcatching up to do, aftertheir busy days Perched together at last,there are meals to recount,close calls with danger(in the form of snakes,or cars, or cats)new friends made,who has hatchlings andwho is still waiting The evening fills up withtheir noisy chatty banter,soContinue reading “June”


Shore birds with thearms and legs of industryrushing gush for tidal plunderhalf blinded drownedby beating spraysteam and groanon the horizon with theheave ho of group effortalways the sea willreturn to wash overwhat remains This is the final ekphrastic poem from the exhibition of Turner paintings at the Kimbell Art Museum earlier this year. HERE youContinue reading “Wreckers”

The Ariel

Lashing out, fair rationsthe slap and stingof salt waves mixedwith snowice and fire, a cold burnswirl and tumult ofupturned cargo and soulsnearly founderingwith progress breathlessfor the suffrage of a new life This is the second of three ekphrastic poems I wrote at the Kimbell Art Museum during their exhibition of Turner paintings earlier this year.Continue reading “The Ariel”


The field of death illuminatedLight suspended, in suspensionpigment in medium,applied, brushed and varnishedbut not glossed – so much lossat what costBy their own lightthose who could not fightsearch for signs of life Wandering in suspensionthe crowds pass inmuted tones, hushed and dimmaking their own inspectionframe by framemostly weighed by ageand time, and glossedby the wonderContinue reading “Waterloo”

Live from the beach – a video prompt

The beach is a poemIn sand and sun, waves and timeA poem without words Greetings from the beach! How about this – what if the video at the top of this post was a poem prompt? I don’t need it now, because I am there, but I’ll need it when I’m back home and daydreamingContinue reading “Live from the beach – a video prompt”