Psaltery & Lyre



The Arc

For the last morning, Anne climbs the mountain with her son and a knife, imitating Abraham. She cannot be outdone in doing right. She reads the Bible and she understands it.


There is nothing to be done / but kneel down, like this, and bear witness.

Two Poems

Hurts you, doesn’t it? Every last thing. / Those endings. Each page, a paper cut. / / Godx is nearer than you can imagine. / Godx is never close enough.

Words for Levitation

Can you put your hands around me like a muffler, season of grapes soaking in oak, season of crows, season of your husked voice whispering across the sheets, are you naked?  Will you touch me first?

Two Poems

I put my faith in algebra. / And Wallace Stevens, of course, / / his quantum heresies, his dominion, / coffee and oranges

Where I’m Heading

Inside, two pews made / from wooden pallets / the sea coughed up, an altar / of bleached driftwood

At Summer’s Decline

my wife, / / rising from a dive, turning to me, / gathered the rare light and wore it.

“You Are My Sunshine”

Lemon sunlight stripes the hospital bed, / and morning chases off the lulling blues


And I expect a clattering of limbs, / the burning shriek of a horse / / suddenly sideways

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