When you rode out that day did you think that at this spot you would turn your last crank? Feel your cadence end? Leaning against a post, a bike painted mute, ethereal white, in memory and a reminder to those of us who ride that each time might be our last. A reminder to ride … More GHOST BIKE

Coles Point Morning

I started this poem a couple weeks ago– on Labor Day to be specific. It sat in rough draft form in my notebook for a week or so before I began working with it. In the process, I’ve changed words (the crabbers banter “carried” across the water, then “flowed,” then “skimmed”), played with the length … More Coles Point Morning


Creekside again. Hammond Branch is different each time I walk along its banks. Rocks shifted by the current, a bit of bank eroded, water pooled behind a log, debris-choked, waiting for the next big flow after a heavy rain. ….. Water flows over granite ledges, through gaps between boulders, past the rocks where I sit. … More HAMMOND BRANCH


GRASS Long grass growing in a Tidewater salt marsh, unadorned stalks that somehow survive in the brackish water of a landscape compromised between wet and dry. Blue stem growing on the Kansas prairie before it’s turned for corn in a landscape level to the certainties of right and good. Kentucky 31 growing rich green in … More GRASS