I rise as usual before the daily sun, step into my garden, surveying all around – I am met by silence no one is singing no one’s making noise- do they mourn today in communion with koalas and kangaroos? My country – soaked in denial and fierce when armed with lies that lead the wayContinue reading “Morning poem”
Category Archives: Climate change
Star stuff
On the dike he frolics – an otter captured through the corner of my eye, while the ibis flees, not allowing me to espy a silhouette framed by raindrops. I must be crazy, soaked like these creatures, near relatives by chromosome. Meanwhile a pheasant ventures across the road. Life is good here and now, thisContinue reading “Star stuff”
The poet sang of concrete
The poet sang of concrete and paradise destroyed, the dollar stores are ringing up landfill fodder for the gulls. And when the bittern finds his habitat banned from our state, we know the ducklings roaming Lansing with their crutches have deemed to legislate away all the living – a person tries not to hate butContinue reading “The poet sang of concrete”
Loons
This Michigan migrant sets up house in the most remote of places – no longer common in the land of a developer’s dream. A pair will stake their territory, warding off interlopers with yodels and tremolos. The eerie call of nature is necessary if they are to ensure enough food and security for the youngContinue reading “Loons”
Water stories : an octet
1. My grandfather slipped into silence for several days at a time. It was a family thing, you see, my grandmother and her sons accepted water from a stranger – he meant no harm. Brother Harry from diphtheria went to a grave in Wyandotte’s ground. Willy he never knew nor do I know of hisContinue reading “Water stories : an octet”
Beloved
My life these days is lived in the fog of a visit to mom. We sit at lunch, lost in 90 years of forgetting. I caress her with sweet nothings to bring a smile that I can lose myself in. I want to lose myself in this forgetting. To remember is to think of deathContinue reading “Beloved”
Frost
The line in my garden is September box elder ant make the final push tomatoes turn red in paper bags The line in my garden is October chard kale spinach check tomatoes turn red in paper bags The line in my garden is November Cassandra beckons no one hears 11/16/2016
Guns, God and Bigotry
Any lie will do. Manifest claims the land from east to west – it is destined to be owned, shore begets shore buffalo roam no more- any lie will do. Black man was born in Kenya, brown man is a rapist, rebel flag means southern culture, white man’s syndrome says this – the topicContinue reading “Guns, God and Bigotry”
Anne's mediocre poetry 