Trick of the Light

In France, the pickpockets
ask tourists to sign petitions
against social injustice,
then run their hands over
their intimate belongings,
gentle and needy as lovers.
It’s hard to judge them harshly,
such artistry…

Hear Garrison Keillor read the complete poem on The Writer’s Almanac.

A Life

Each afternoon he took his pipe
and led his goats beyond the pasture
to a neighbor’s field behind his farm—
not exactly his but not exactly not…

Hear Garrison Keillor read the complete poem on The Writer’s Almanac.

 

Intensity as Violist

That she was not pretty she knew.

The flowers delivered into her hands post-concert by the young girl, pretty, would be

acknowledged only. To display was to invite comparison…

Read this and three other poems on the Poetry Foundation’s website.

Nocturne

A man can give up so much,
can limit himself to handwritten correspondence,
to foods made of whole grains,
to heat from a woodstove, logs
hewn by his own hand and stacked neatly
like corpses by the backdoor…

Read the poem on American Life in Poetry.

Brood

Hey there     can’t we     just a little     look     by placing my hand…

 Read this and two more poems at The Offending Adam.

Driving Alone

At Lake Erie, the sky collapsed
in snow. My headlights lit up
a miniature globe before me, a world
too small to navigate…

Read this and two more poems at The Boiler.

Delicate

Fear unfurls in her throat
like Mother’s peonies–
how they open and open,
hands inside of hands…

Read this and “Show Horse” on Wordgathering.