american poetry
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Howl
The Dalai Lama says that the world will be saved by Western women. Not any women, perhaps not all women, but Burning Women. Women who have stepped out of silence and into the fullness of their power. Angry women who love the world and her creatures too much to let it be destroyed so thoughtlessly… Continue reading
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I think i wonder
Jot down the first thing that comes to your mind. what do I write I’m frozen ten miles deep in an unyielding concrete sea Immobility begins in the heart years worth a pickaxe squeals over bouncing off effortlessly What if I did trap it it was no good to me anyway too soft to open… Continue reading
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night
I clean my face at night my mother calls it taking off the day. I can clean my face, but I have seen too much that cannot be washed away I wonder what it is all for, the fear, the smell of dread, the infighting and I wonder if things will be different in the… Continue reading
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Atropos dreams
I dreamed about a dead poets son who self annihilated I took an elevator that went to nowhere and stopped between floors. He was darkly handsome His smile comfortably intimate, as if this weren’t death we were living in as if his life had never happened. I becamelost in his studio, scattered with the detritus… Continue reading
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Girl Talk: The Code of Sylvia Plath’s “Cut”
Given her Swiftian bent in “Cut,” Plath fantastically extrapolates Freud’s castration complex and imagines the female anatomy in ludicrous male personas, each with its own abject place in history, while the poem serves, at once, as a celebration, social satire and lament about female gender. Girl Talk: The Code of Sylvia Plath’s “Cut” This is a… Continue reading
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Dissonance
Im only free when I drink free to say what I want and how i want when I don’t care that my barbaric yawp hits the wall and slides down into an abyss of silence silence that smothers and silence smothers me in this worldI am not made for I never realized this world is… Continue reading
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reminisce
there are no stars tonight justsnow clouds, and some light somewhere aboveor belowradiates the color rose the night presses in closet-likeand freedom seems far off like Mayand spring and the love that grewlong ago waving grassesflowers and summer rainwhat if doors could be openonce shut and clocks could be rewoundhow different the world would besecond… Continue reading
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Ophelia
missing.always.missing. hole cut out of my life I am you just another version, that’s all. now, in the twilight of middle age I discover I am merely flesh and blood with no heart. the winds blow through my soul encountering no obstacle on the grassless prairie still, I am far away. haunted by my demons… Continue reading
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crossroads
“Since then ‘t is centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses’ heads Were toward eternity.”– emily dickinson at the end, the precipice.no signs forward no signs backno bridge overno wings to flyonly wide open black space descendingdown away from the sky Then a movement in the wind catches my… Continue reading
About Me
poet, diarist, writer, teacher, woman, fragile, strong, northern life is my domicile, my barbaric yawp exudes against the tide
Diary of an American 