Poetry

Poetry

The Roe Deer

"The shadows of the trees / and the frost-heaved stones / over long seasons / have shaped this grazing / question, with ears / that cup the hush."
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Poem | 'Messenger'

"It was anybody’s son at the door/   in the dripping green slicker/      with the unsigned contract for selling my soul"
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Two Poems

"After two weeks’ absence, the clover is high as a fence. / The weeds are white-tipped frills of grass"
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Poem | 'Houses'

"Given gravity, it is only right / that the houses hunched along the road / seem substantive and unconcerned."
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Aeneid Book VI

Seamus Heaney’s translation of the 'Aeneid' isn't just a fresh version of Virgil’s tale, but also a firsthand account of one who has passed to “nowhere.”
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Two Poems

In an oval world where / points of view are eye-shaped, / out of a round world, helpless, /  where even the hamburger has/ an accredited helper, dirt cheap...
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Poem | Mowing

for what I hope is the last time / until spring, I remember the house at the bottom / of Canal Street, its back / porch sinking / into a kingdom of tall weeds...
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Poem | Wild

Even the eagle is deep / into dailyness // acts as if safe, & is silly / during its courtship rituals // spends days / inspecting / impregnable building sites...