Spring Forward

Frosty grasses


Lay down what is past

Look beyond this present skin

Lean hard into Spring

The Great Reversal

frosty trellis


Where once a green and virile vine

Twined its length upon your frame,

Frost has thrust his hoary head,

Icy claws have staked their claim.


Do not lose hope as Winter’s grip

Sinks fangs of doom into your heart;

Where once his frozen work remained,

Spring’s greenery will grow her art.



Songs of Spring



you are my vernal equinox

I lean in to your warmth

frozen places stir, blink

in the brilliance

hope blooms sure, like

snow destined to saturate

the soil, singing songs

of spring


Waiting for Legs


Lungs filled with fluid

chain her to the swamp,

drown her dreams

with their primordial


pull. But she lifts

her eyes from the

sludge, above the

bottom-feeding frenzy


to the world of

terra firma, of

grass and soil

and ambulatory


thrivers. Hers

is a hope that

floats to the surface,

waiting for legs.


Even tadpoles can dream…

Hope Unfolds


Hope unfolds, a wrinkle in time,

boutonniere in a funeral pocket.

It whispers to the weary

when gale-force winds shout,

yet its stir conquers kingdoms

and uproots emperors,

one pale pink petalĀ at a

time. Hope is one drop

of one wave of one ocean,

yet it carves out its allotment

of the shoreline with a steady

hand. It dares to grasp the moon,

sleep with stars, paint the

Sistine Chapel, bow at the throne

of heaven, bloom on a cursed earth.

Hope is the candle in the window

to call its sons home…

In the Center



In the center of her soul is a garden;

In the center of the garden is a tree.

In the center of the tree, is a bouquet;

In the center of the bouquet, is a bud.

In the center of the bud, is the choice for good and evil;

In the center of the choice, is her soul.

In the center of her soul is a garden…