arriving home

one more stone then crush

his eyes open and light falls
on fields he once knew

where wheat baked beneath
the sun and scent
harvest beckoned his all

now the daylight fades
and his body lies still

a silent crowd scatters


“arriving home” first appeared in Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review. Number 18, 2002
Also from Awaiting the Images

A Starting Line

I stumbled upon a line in an old journal that has stumped me. I’ve tried working with it and just haven’t found the right words or image. So I’m going to leave it here, a starting line of sorts, for anyone interested in creating something from it. If so, I’d like to see what you make of it. Perhaps the line isn’t mine to finish and instead belongs to one of you.

be gentle to the shadows who bear the weight of all we’ve lost


A bow is drawn slowly across
a single string, and a sound
like vapor stretches through
the air. The heart quickens,

and there is a tightness
in the chest like the skilled
fingers pressing down
just enough to elicit longing

only music can awaken.
Words fade to a whisper,
eyes close, and then the flash
of that day in the woods

when all was motionless
sight and sound until the first
drops of rain began to rattle
against the dry autumn leaves.


From Awaiting the Images