Everything Passing

When I felt wings growing under my skin,
I fed myself another snow cone. I made
an architecture of summer clouds and
paper. In this scaffold, I turned into
a Valkyrie. Someday, I will shriek

forbidden words about claw machines
and bumper cars, horses seen from
car windows, the inevitability of fall,
everything passing, passing like
my old, soft, sun-loving self.



Whatever else happened between the leaves
or in the hammock, Louise was not about
to stick around to find out. Norman told her
to come for a walk, so that’s what she did,
meeting him in the shade of the hornbeam
tree, admiring its catkins. She always liked it
when a man knew trees: Not just, Meet me
under that big, round shade tree
, but
Meet me under the hornbeam. Maybe
Meet me under the hornbeam, Dear
would be better. But there was time
enough for that, she thought, more than
enough evenings left in June, More
than enough Junes left for all that


Here’s the Thing

I never said I didn’t want to move to Denver,
only that I hate mountains and craft beer.
Maybe you misheard; what I actually said
was that I’m not moved by John Denver –
his music or his Grape Nuts commercials.
But Denver is as Denver does, and if you
want me to fly low over all the wildflowers
there, pollinate all those acres of lupines,
then ask me again and I might say yes,
especially if you buy me a craft beer first.


Reading on July 30 in Chicago

I have some exciting news: I’ll be doing a reading from my chapbook, Secret Rivers, on Wednesday, July 30, at 6:30 p.m., at Hyde Park Art Center here in Chicago. The venue is … well, just, wow. There’s currently an installation piece by John Preus called The Beast at HPAC, and the reading will be IN the installation, which is indeed beast-shaped. It must be seen to be believed.

If you live in the Chicago area, I hope you’ll come see my first poetry reading since college — and even then, it was always just a few poems, not me hogging the whole thing. So this is a pretty big deal!