Term: travel-poetry
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In Guatemala
In Guatemala cannas grew wild, sloping up the twisted path to the hilltop where men slit roosters on altars. One flapped headless in a man’s...
Prague Spring
“Only those who struggle for their freedom are worthy of it….”-Plaque in Bratislava commemorating the Velvet Revolution. How can the patterns go on and on?...
Great Grandmother
My Great-grandmother was the first woman in Nebraska to file for divorce—it wasn’t granted. No one will ever believe her. The wood stove hummed with...
Airspace in Wartime
Amid clouds claimed by no king, my boy sketches the sky. Below, Sweden slouches southward. To the east, artillery barks at the wind. In national...
Boundaries
The soldiers dig new boundaries around us. We crouch in our basement, clutching at candles. Our whispered prayers make the flames dance. In morning rubble,...
In Praise of Birds
I wrote a poem once, aged sixteen, all about a bird. Red kite screeching, dancing in the air. I see her again now, distant cousin,...
Letter to East Lothian
You’ve put the hills to my back. A changing skyline of colour, Purpling in summer when the heather blooms. And winding roads to nowhere. The...
Cyborgs on the Seme Border
Their ribs stood out, with prongs of bird-like feet and insular palms. We made ourselves a glass of violin so we could see what the...
Crossing the Hinterlands
Memories come to mind like excavated statues. But this in particular is peculiar to the smallest fibre, grain of sand, drop of water & landscape...
That There is Life after this Body/Border
there is __a__ black sky hovering over my polity [another] [our] & that is why i burn our hearts and count [we] [mop] our brother’s...
Primal Sound
Is metaphor for silence beyond our recollection. We are unable to translate boundaries – the pale land of distant stars we arrived from. Our bodies...
Years after Rilke's Death
What served for a young woman’s days? A life in silence? This house was built with its own vow, a wife in silence. His quiet—a...
Forgetting as an Act of Remembering
I do not have the luxury of forgetting who I am because I was not given the privilege of knowing who I was to be...
Neowise, the Comet
Because it goes on, over and over, you can never say you’re halfway there. Six thousand, seven hundred years then swinging back to the cold....
Balm
From my three small rooms I’ve gotten to dome growth, fireweed, slough views, a porch like a theater seat to a sharpened sunset. After the...
Three Places
As we drive into the country in her electric car, we look into the sky, so dark and starless, and silent. Perhaps to fill the...
The Mushroom King
The wait is hard when you count time in memories. But linger long enough, and the Mushroom King will emerge. Ears in the branches, hands...
The Carnival of the Word
Whisky and a shop window – Thanks, Marriott! The gloomy, excited crowd passes by and recalls to me Goya’s blackest period and the lethargic mind...
Space Junk
Everything my family ever threw away floats in outer space, in the voids between galactic superclusters. The apple core, the pizza crust, the Little Mermaid...
Sameba 2019
Retreating through trellises of grapes growing woven through rubber bands; through the rose garden, fragrance hanging ancient in the beading humidity – I snapped the...
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