Selected Poems
Gone yard
A cornered post and rail fence
grey splintered by lost time
protects our red tree swing
and the last rope burnt limbs.
Wild to seed grass surrounds
this circle of roots, exposed
by push off of winter boots.
Steps left in thirst soiled silt.
A simple November thrill
of jumping off the rail, snap
launch, alone into space
our children never will.
grey splintered by lost time
protects our red tree swing
and the last rope burnt limbs.
Wild to seed grass surrounds
this circle of roots, exposed
by push off of winter boots.
Steps left in thirst soiled silt.
A simple November thrill
of jumping off the rail, snap
launch, alone into space
our children never will.
