A new published poem by me in Visual verse, inspired by an image by Michael Easterling.
Tag: Poems
Face Masks
The question these mornings of birdsong
The Burial of the Dead
I woke up this morning thinking/T.S. Eliot had no clue
The Plague
We should have known it well
To a dead fox
A poem in draft form.
Le temps déborde
After Éluard and Cave.
Réentrée
A new attempt at a poem.
Blue Star
When Patti and Robert met
they slept covered by a blanket of stars.
