FALL

Calling
call
owl
sound
flat
pressed
‘gainst my
brain
like the
lid of
pan
not piercing
ear
like the dive
of swallow
compressing
containing
consoling
twining in my flesh
like a woven paper
basket.

I hear death
strand by strand
is a great unraveling
and I wonder
has this note
kept me
whole
and I wonder
will this be
the last sense
of me
and will it go
back to the wood
where it
began.

Will post another poem

a new poem

tears in me
stars
hold me
in their constancy
mirror me
how could
have I thought
the whirring chirp
of crickets
were frogs?

Will post another poem

Will post another poem

SKELETON WOMAN APPEARS

Well you're not going to believe this but there was a sighting of SKELETON WOMAN, my play, a few days ago. The first four books came back from Lulu which we're going to be using as galleys and hopefully within a few weeks the book: SKELETON WOMAN: A DANCE WITH THE DARK will be available. We're very excited about it. I'll be sending copies to everyone directly involved in the production and if you are inadvertently left off the list let me know. An exciting time.