INTERMITTENT A harbor, tide and fog - someblue and yellow painted housesobscured, fading, across the water. A hammeringechoing, repeatingacross the way. Woman calling out"are we going/in the water?" "Yeah, go in. I want…" "You'll hear me say 'whew!'" "I don't mind….I heard she said:'fuck you',then she jumped in…eyes open…" There's a foghorn. Atmosphere. …"…she was … Continue reading intermittent

A Moment

it is pushing midnight, and I am sitting at the picnic table in the yard behind our home wisps of white cloud scud above. the moon higher now – earlier it hovered over the delta, light rippling from it: a yellow road rippling down from the edge of the Atlantic, following the Merrimac, across the … Continue reading A Moment

Winter Drift

Across the way, thickening winter fog obscures the moored craft in the harbor, muting this watery, drifting place. Skeletal trees stand clustered on boulders along the shore - thrown up by some past trauma or another. A lazy ribbon of snow snakes down beside them, fading as it nears the lapping sea. A cold rain … Continue reading Winter Drift

The Eighth

This kiss, that storywhispered to David, under the hanging gardens -the promise Heloise made to Abelard,the crowning of Ines as Peter wept.Life lost willingly, always a fleeting thing. Time's lash, barbed fingers drawing blood,the groaning underneath, movement within,this kiss, that story.Time over timebody over body.


the map of the geography of desire,revealing a hidden world.traces the geographic coordinates oflove|lust -their intersections.the meridians pulse with energy,sweeping across equators, where careful choreographybecomes necessity,the tracing of a fingeralong a beloved throat,the sound a murmuring heart,the sudden catchin a soft cry. the small things -the devotion to place,not time.the deeper knowingthat comes with devotion,every … Continue reading °

The Seventh

This shared kiss, one body, one mouth,exclamations and proclamations, this tumbling tumult.This shared kiss, these shared lips. This shared breath.Sinking into verdant land, into this Garden. This shaking Earth. Writhing groaning gasping life.Frenzied motion and this quickening, this eternal -Tree of Life and the sacred fruit.Cojoined, erupting, ripe flesh and a quaking wood.

The Sixth

This kiss, my lips as gardener,feeding heat along a verdant trough,a flickering tool movingin hidden spaces, the private gate discovered.The flowering, once hidden garden, opening. Blooms rising, bursting,from rich, fertile earth,unfurling, rising, seeking heat -a full circle,a frenzied birth.