Psaltery & Lyre




There’s that moon again, February moon, / moon in Pisces, Valentine’s Day moon.

A Prayer to Charlotte, in February

Dear lady / of the eight legs, dame / of dry wit and outsize determination / descend / your self-spun line / and hear us.

The Moth

Let’s drink to / what can be socketed, shadow / to wall, mouth to an ear. The moth / still on the windowsill is only / / a little death.


I see nothing can stand beneath my feet but the solemn / and lovely earth, the molten fire within it, cirrus rags above.

How Long the Call

because (they say) my voice / was made for lullabies alone

How to Parse God

Neither God, nor God’s Manifestation in Flesh / Resembles a vending machine along the side of an untraveled road, / Almost covered in kudzu.

Hera Takes Down the Christmas Tree

My pagan hands, capable enough for this task of packing / away glass birds and painted wooden stars, / have again proven too clumsy to hang onto you. / I hear the whispers. No matter how gently / I remove the ornaments, showers of needles rush to the floor.

Three Poems

so I’ll sing what you want: counted like fathoms, / one knot at a time, ping and descend, ping and descend. / Till anchored to something barnacled. Musical. Onerous. Deep.

Go Along to Get Along

And if you say this something at a party / you might not be invited to another. / You could become isolated and embittered / and miss out on the treats.

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