In a lawn chair, the river so shallow and clear, a crystal ribbon stitching together the valley floor. You look down and see granite, quartz, silt, the hollow skeletons of mayflies
Two Flash Essays
Owl
Late for a hike / but still I go, / headlight and hat / in pocket — the defiance / of time on a Sunday — / to dissolve myself / in bishop pine
2021 Orison Anthology Nominees
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2021 Best of the Net Nominees
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The Rake that’s Leaning Against the Tree in the Yard
Wait, my children are growing / too fast and we neglected / the garden this summer
Ávila
Broken, and again broken, / sick and scraped, my Tree.
Emily Observed
There is an ineffable green / and there is no justice / in minimal effort and lack of vocabulary.
prayer for improvement
show me how to / sound in the world, / how to / speak with a voice patient / as weeds, expectant as wheat
Two Flash Essays
In the boulevard before crossing to the front steps, I’m stopped in my tracks and breath. On the porch—the wicker loveseat once your aunt’s, blue shirt, beard newly trimmed—I see you clear as day.
Psaltery & Lyre 