Here are links to poems of mine that have been published online:

Easter Monday: the North Side

A blue hole swallows the unwary, offers up
its perfect mystery. A thousand feet from shore
a shelf dives undersea a thousand fathoms deep.
The North Side ridge looks down. The water’s stripes
bleed turquoise, blue, and indigo.

Town, Issue 2, January 2010


soulmama born she baby
in the treefrog night

soulmama child he drown
he drown

soulmama fight she fight

Good Friday, Bleeding

……………………………………………………This is not
the secret blood that smirches thighs and seeps from wombs;
it’s scapegoat blood that quenches desert sands,
the serpent-on-a-stick that cures on sight.
This blood can heal when drawn from open wounds
by scourges, nails, Gesthemene’s dark night.

Sevenling: Dancer

You danced him beautiful: Baron Samedi, Ghede, Papa Bones,
your top hat, your black cane, your tails
lifting and spinning, slick sweat on your chest

Soundzine, February 2009


The Carpenter Seals Lily’s Widowhood (1943)

Lily checked the stove, the yard, the sky, and whispered back:
No fire here. But Eddie smiled. He knew the truth, and lacked
the words to tell it.

Wicked Alice, Winter 2009


The Preacher Man Saves Lily’s Soul (1914)

Isaiah set they soul afire. Lily wake, clapping hymns
to the night. Her sister sigh out of sleeping,
the dark air all live-up with light.

The Carpenter Seals Lily’s Widowhood (1943)

Lily checked the stove, the yard, the sky, and whispered back:
No fire here. But Eddie smiled. He knew the truth, and lacked
the words to tell it.

Anti-, Featured Poet #14, October 2008

The Granddaughter Sings Lily Home (1994)

She sing a song of eye and hill and help
that come from God. The last aunt die
ten days before. Don’t tell her, it gn kill her
but Melinda know that death don’t lie
in knowing: it in lying.


Sevenling: Life is a Drying

Life is a drying, a journey
from water to dust. The skin hangs,
the blood slows, flesh hardens and turns

to wire and stone.

qarrtsiluni, Transformation Issue, July-September 2008


The Carpenter Brings Lily Home (1924)

The blue wood snapped the white and made it glitter
in April’s sun. His mother baffled cakes,
whipped whites of egg and sugar into peaks,
dropped hard-earned almond essence into batter
and sang it into flavour.

The Barefoot Muse, Issue 7, Summer 2008


Sevenling: The Widow Addresses Her Late Husband

Without you, I’m a bell without a clapper,
a whistle without its pea,
a drum without a head.

The Avatar Review, Vol. 10, June 2008


Sevenling: Flying South for Winter

The Cambridge autumn glowed.
The maples dressed in gold.
The robins were all widowed.

Eclectica 12.2, Apr/May 2008


Sevenling: Rock Star
Sevenling: You Dream

You dream of slips, slits, buttonholes,
an Atwood poem, an unhooked eye,
a big bed growing cold.

Words-Myth v.10 Spring 2008


From Mama Lily and the Dead

But Lily’s life, filed sharp by fate,
ripped that bright redemption.
Light scattered all around the yard.
The chickens pecked and clawed.

Shit Creek Review/II v.4 July 2007


The Scotsman Gives Lily her Name (1904)

He named her Lily, for her whiteness,
but her eyes held secrets, dark as lakes
that swallowed sons beneath their waves.

Calabash 2.2 Summer/Fall 2003 (.pdf document)


The Seamstress Teaches Lily How to Sew (1910)

Lily dropped the strays in tumbling heaps
on table corners and broken chairs, fiddled
them into piles. Naomi lit the lamp, picked a thimble,
sat Lily beside her, and patched scraps together.
By lamplight they stitched riddles of their own.

The Caribbean Writer Vol. 16 2001


I haven’t forgotten about my 1000 lines of blank verse.  They’re just on hold for the nonce.


Contact me


2 thoughts on “Poetry

  1. Meditation On a Lizard’s Head is strongest, I think, unless I’m just in a ghoulish mood. Poor creature.

    You illustrate the craft, the value of life, both as object and self, and don’t flinch to show it spent; a small transaction for kitty, who adds insult to injury, for whom the selfhood of a meal is void.

    ‘The lizard calmed and stilled. Even its tail,
    its long and lovely tail, was still,’

    The stillness itself serves to hold the reader to face the injustice more soberly than is usual or comfortable. This is a very effective piece.

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