The desert mother

I will birth children here
absolute as stone
innumerable as sand

and name each one

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the magicians’ wives
are silent testimony
bitter sum of bones

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For Jimmie

When a poet dies
the land is not poorer
because it holds bones loosely
that once sang
the resonance of stone
and understood what leaves whispered

When a poet dies
the air echoes
her mouth shaping sound
that kiss of breath in her voice
and perhaps sighs a little longer

but with that poet gone
will anyone else notice
how the earth remembers?

For my teacher, mentor and friend.

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In tarot
9 is completion/attainment
the ending and the beginning

Not alpha and omega
but this 9
9 meeting to pray
9 deaths

are a numerology
of loss

something uncountable
and hopefully over
because we are full of it

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Don’t tell

There are words we can’t say.
Words that if we speak them
are just sounds leading
to soap in the mouth
or hours in a bedroom
no longer safe. There are things
we don’t have words for, because no-one
speaks them or teaches them.
We can show the words only
acted out on dolls, nameless ones
we don’t play with.
They are as quiet as those things
done to us and the only words we know
are don’t tell, don’t think, don’t do
just be silent.

Just be good.

For the Duggar girls.

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On The Duggars

What a Witch

Sexual Abuse Silence

I don’t want to talk about the parents.

I don’t want to talk about how they raised their children in a cult.

I don’t want to talk about Josh Duggar.

He’s a child molester.

I don’t want to talk about his “reform.”

Josh and his parents insist that he is no longer a danger, but Josh and his parents are also the people who hid his sexual assault.

So maybe their word is not so valuable.

Oh wait, I’m sorry, I misspoke. (mistyped?)

Their word means less than nothing and I would be perfectly happy if they would shut the fuck up.

I don’t want to talk about the family’s connection with Hobby Lobby.

I don’t want to talk about the fact that the place that Josh was sent to for “counseling,” the place wherein the family claims that Josh underwent his “reform” was run by a man who is…

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Posted in New Free Verse


This was the day
that marked summer for me,
wearing white shoes
and counting farm stands
selling strawberries
on the way home.

Now, I find respite in ritual
whether I am placing flags
or arranging geraniums
or counting from memory
how many guns were fired
the day we put you in the earth

Finally alone.

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