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Wednesday, January 16, 2013


The moisture in my
breath fogging the window was
once hard, angry hail.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013


Three hundred sixty five
days open and shut, darkness
and light, and we're here
again, this arbitrary line
that the earth and stars
disregard, operating on
their own silent clocks
but, still, time (a gift!) to
think of a similar line in
between this now and the next,
each ripe to begin--

So, universe,
let me look forward
using vision (in all its senses),
let me see color and shape
emerge from the dawn of
each future moment, to
look forward at least as much
as I reach back to those
familiar comforts (even when
they are sharp and hard),
forward, into that which
only seems like a void,
leaping and large.

A Letter to My Students

I don’t say it enough, but I care about you. Each of you. That’s why I’m here. It’s too much work to do it for the money, so there must be ...