Saturday, March 28, 2020



I denied my desire to drink
Once I realized thirst
Could not be quenched.
Instead I set aside
Small cups of water
To coat my brittle lips
Before they cracked and bled.

Tiny room with a desk,
Small spiral ring notebooks,
Dense with cramped script.
Small portions had always been enough
To keep me fed:
The things I can grip
And carry when I fled.

I dead-ended deep in a forest
Up against cliffs of shale and slate
Sponged with brackish moisture,
So swollen they dripped.
Closed my eyes and and lifted my face
To the water that comes from stone
And the moss cushioned my weight.

I have always been mostly water
And water never gets wet.
All the cups must be tipped.
The beaded puddles that spread
Across my varnished desk
Coalesce, fathomless:
Deep enough to dive head first.


Saturday, March 14, 2020


Self Isolation

It once seemed
So far away---

Wuhan, hazmat
White tents, N95 masks---

But now it’s here,
It’s everywhere,
And not just a meme.

This time virus goes viral.
The numbers trickled in and then popped.
We’re scrolling our phones and laptops.
Small cliques, family clusters
Scattered from great gatherings.

Drink plenty of water
Check for fever
Wash your hands
Get caught up on your sleep.
Read Boccaccio and
Avoid the din of voices.

For the longest time,I guess,
I've been practicing for this moment.
Well versed in the art of social distancing.

Judicious isolation
---- not alone.
It’s always been an act
Of self preservation.