Metro
On the orange lineEast to Westin the last caris one aisle seatfacing front Only one Take that From here the spine of the great beast… Read More »Metro
Wendy Crumpler
RC’s Mice
His poems, should he ever produce any more,ought to be eaten by mice. Raymond Carver Your hair will look better if you work on that… Read More »RC’s Mice
Did we?
You appeared in my inbox A poem, a memory A voice, craggy, feral A flirtation Me in a green dress You in a porkpie hat… Read More »Did we?
The Light
1988. New York’s Lower East Side. I lived on Avenue A between 4th and 5th in a wonderful old prewar building. In 1980 there had… Read More »The Light
I Cannot Pray
I cannot pray but I can dance rough praises in my feet and hands I cannot pray but I can sing the music that my… Read More »I Cannot Pray
Happiness is not a bar chart
Happiness is not a bar chart So much happiness for this day This much on another My happiness compared to your happiness Or Some universal… Read More »Happiness is not a bar chart
A Poem
Blossoms fall that fruit may ripen Loveliness gives way for something more substantial that too will fall or fade or flow through some dark passage… Read More »A Poem
Maundy Thursday
Today is Maundy Thursday, a holy day (along with Yom Kippur) that moves me and feels particularly important. This was the day Jesus made the… Read More »Maundy Thursday
On Beauty
I’ve heard professional photographers talk about the shots they’ve taken. The why, the how, the when of a particular picture. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard one speak of the picture that they didn’t take, that they wished they had taken. Perhaps that’s why they are professionals—they’re rarely without a camera and usually ready for that moment of grace when a picture presents itself.Read More »On Beauty
I am the Sea
I am the sea moving A restless rhythm Headed somewhere unknown Some shore I’ve never visited awaits And whether I’m ready or not I move… Read More »I am the Sea