Friday, December 28, 2012


Last night
I walked in on
death at my friend Polar Bear's wake,
i turned around and left,
Fiddled my hair a lot,
Why do people call it a resurrection
when the person is dead?

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Sometimes By Sheenagh Pugh

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from Bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost, green thrives, the crops don't fail,
sometimes, a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they cannot leave some stranger poor.
Some men became what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss, sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow,
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

New Hampshire By Howard Moss


When the loons cry,
The night seems blacker,
The water deeper.
Across the shore:
An eyelash-charcoal
Fringe of pine trees.


The lake reflects
Indefinite pewter.
And intermittent thunder
lets us know.
The gods are arriving,
one valley over.


After the long
Melancholy of the fall,
One longs for the crisp
Brass shouts of winter-
The blaze of firewood,
The window's spill
of parlor lamplight
Across the snow.


Flaring like a match
Dropped in a dry patch,
One sunset tells
the spectrum's story.
See the last hunter's
Flashlight dim
As he hurries home
To his lighted window.