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          Winged horse, strike stars

My photo of the Rouillard bronze.

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             She holds the empty cup and looks out through the door for the moon.


This Early Dark



New--listen to me reading The Roe Deer:

The Roe Deer

for Vigdis Storsletten

The shadows of the trees

and the frost-heaved stones

over long seasons

have shaped this grazing

question, with ears

that cup the hush.

He is the thief the blossom

has desired all the untold summers,

the forager the grass

has hungered for. Awake to

the hiding place where you

believe yourself unknown,

he is the answer you

once lived, the imaginary

kingdom’s real heartbeat.

Let the trees stir 

above you. Draw that

deepest breath, and

keep your secret.

He knows you are here.




The Roe Deer has appeared in Commonweal Magazine.



















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