it disappears

Here’s a poem I wrote about thirty years ago, in a little city in Virginia: Stopover     Brick mirage in the flat stretch of parking lots, the Trailways bus station rises, a solid oasis for those on the road. For the natives, it disappears into the general route to the library or the grocery

Toxic response to infection

                                   EdvardMunch-TheChildandtheDeath Here is a poem I wrote about the grandmother who died long before I was born: Septicemia   My mother’s mother died from Septicemia In 1922 Two weeks after she birthed My uncles At home Delirious, tossing in the bed, Then dead, Stiff like marble When they lifted my Seven year old mother

tides of noise, a crown of candy

Here’s a poem I wrote about twelve years ago: After Laughter after Ecclesiastes 8:15   Therefore I commend mirth; so I praise laughter; after all, I turn to grinning. In the end, I prefer to chortle, to chuckle, guffaw, snort, split my sides, tears of mirth, earthy mirth, rips of laughter, tides of noise, human