Joanna
A poem originally written to be alternative lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel's "America".
Sarah
We danced to a tune, by light of the moon, the fiddle was lively and gay.
Catalina
To the sultry roll of a mandolin, your child came.
Writing of Ships
Writing of ships is hard work on an empty stomach.
The Fiddle Player
The fiddle player sat upon the stage surveying all she saw; The dancers pranced upon the floor as many more came through the door and walked on down the hall.
Costa Rica
Dust blows down empty streets in Manuel Antonio — what I saw in Costa Rica when I wasn't on the beach.
The Door
A poem I wrote in 2006 after seeing a monologue from a performance of Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper”.
A collection of limericks
Herein is a collection of verse; each written to be very terse. I hope you'll enjoy, that it doesn't annoy, and once read that you won't start to curse.
Deirdre
In the sticky, evening, Georgia heat
we danced to the sound of a lone fiddle
and two imagined guitars—