The Cosmic Word Laboratory

This poem is in response to a challenge to write a fictional poem about living in a fallout shelter.  Intriguing idea, so here is my poem. ...

At first presentation of the problem The answer came as consensus: The variable isn't variable at all. The Straight white line The c...

Her face was lined and tired. Not like O'Keefe, fellow-desert dweller, Cheeks the dry earth after rain. No, my grandmothers face is t...

Sara Teasdale Spoke to Me She said nature. She said love. She said pick up the damn spoon       and stir. Your thoughts are thick on...

Before I tasted Plath and before Anne Sexton made forty look like the perfect age, there were fairies. They hid in the grasses and wov...

There was a softness in the curves of your face Nose lips chin brow Even that impish smirk Softened the blow of your insular soul. Did I...

We are linked, my sisters. Spools of simple thread bounce down the stairs of time. I see the tiny stitches made from that same rocking mot...