“I Should Know Better” (poem with candy in it) (mine).

I Should Know Better

I grow my own food
& make my own pickles

I make my own yogurt
I make tomato sauce from scratch

but every time I leave a hardware store
a video store a country store a magazine shop

I want to put a quarter
into that crusty candy dispenser

selling Mike & Ike’s (which I don’t even like)
or peanut peanut M&Ms or Skittles

I know that candy has been in there for years
But I just want that one small handful

of cheap & attainable sweetness
I can’t help it

I want those candies
I want them bad

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Sprung (poem) (mine).

The lilacs will be here any minute

Forsythia is happening and so is coltsfoot on the roadsides

Daffodils are happening and little blue flowers I don’t know yet

Breakfast & dinner outside is happening

as the roosters chase each other inside their fencing

Grass is greening fast with full moon energy

The tomato starts are waving at the brassicas in the porch breeze

It is time for a hat with a brim that goes all the way around

It’s time for dandelions for dinner & ramps for lunch

The violets just showed their shy purple faces yesterday before the rain

The marsh marigolds are practically everywhere

Spring is touching us all with the a wand invisible & bright

fairfield porter

“Schwenk” by Fairfield Porter, 1959.

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Crop toppin’ (littlepoem) (mine).

Trends are so trendy

The fact that everyone is all of a sudden
wearing crop tops again
is really cracking me up

Processed with VSCOcam with hb2 preset

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We’re All Cool (littlepoem) (mine).

We’re All Cool

I must remember

That just like how I wish I were a knitter or a baker or a pool player

Other people wish they were poets


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We Are Older; We Float, We Sink, We Sleep When We Can (poem) (mine).

We Are Older; We Float, We Sink, We Sleep When We Can

I’m nearly thirty and capable of commanding my body
inside a vehicle. The car and I, we go places together.

I drive south and then west, four hours plus one coffee
stop, to see Scott and his brand new baby. We meet

at a French cafe with “vintage gas station” as its theme.
The baby is strapped away against his chest, silent

and unseeable. We drink white wine and eat Frenchly
-titled meals by the window. Scott covers the baby’s head

with a napkin while he eats, which I both notice
and don’t notice. He is exhausted & he is a father

& I’m so proud of him. He looks natural with a baby.
He looks like someone related to me. Maybe this is why

I love him, or maybe it’s his excellent taste
in wall clocks, or the sandy fields & shifting days

we survived together in laughter. His husband is away
that day, working in the city. When he arrives home,

his face is nearly yellow from exhaustion. I want to feed
them both: applesauce, keffir lime leaves, matzoh ball soup.

At Scott’s birthday dinner party the next evening, there is wine,
deeply chocolate cake, and lentil soup with a pad of floating butter

on top like the raft we each contain inside us, each of us
the fat, the proteins, the flavor, the impending melt.


Filed under boyz, country life, poetry alive, so sheepless right now

Do You Know Where to Look (Do You Know How)

If you slide your fingers down the slender stem
of bluebells

like a man searching the body of a woman
for signs of yes,

you will find your palm filled
with tiny flowers composed

of intricate beauty
You will find your palm

has become a bowl of soundless

You will find faces
made of petals

& you may even find
something of yourself.





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The Good Ole Day Job.

cow getting milked

I’m a poet & a farmer, sure, but also, I’m a freelancer, I’m a poet for hire, and I have a day job selling dairy equipment to farmers. The photo above, from Sugar House Creamery, displays the type of equipment I sell. I never thought I’d be in Sales, talkin’ teats (literally) with old guys over the phone, but life is mysterious & often hilarious & as it turns out, I like my job. I have access to the most delicious milk; I’ve learned how to make cheese, butter, yogurt, and kefir; I now understand how milk is made; the paycheck is more like a big-girl paycheck; the benefits are multiple.

Cheers to the jobs that pay the bills. Cheers to the dreams they fund.


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