You have arrived at my place. Let me show you round.

What you’ll find here

Valentine: A Reply to Thomas Wyatt

Wish and want, They make a sweet music. My lute be still, you said. I have done, you said. But that was just another of your come-hithers, your rosebud-gatherings …. Continue reading >

North Carolina Poetry Society

The NCPS every year holds a competition for poems in a variety of categories. I was happy to learn that in 2022 I won the Mary Ruffin Poole Award for a poem on a theme of “American heritage, sibling-hood, or nature,” for my poem “Copperhead.” I also won the Alice Osborne Award, “for children 2…

William Matthews Poetry Prize

I was delighted to learn from Keith Flynn, editor of the Asheville Poetry Review, that I was awarded first place in the 2022 William Matthews Poetry Prize competition, for my poem “Verbesina occidentalis.” The judge was Marilyn Nelson. The prize is a generous one, including not only enough money to buy a good many books…


It opens, and then opens again, grows over, and changes, lose-some, gain-some. There were trees, once, deer cover, and browse, hunting grounds of hawk and owl, squirrel runs, old stumps and bark, nothing if not hospitable …. Continue reading >


All my mothers are here in their best dresses: mother grandmothers, great-grandmothers; of the men only my father posed with cigarette in hand and my grandmother on the sofa …. Continue Reading >

Embroidered Field

Who pulled the floss from the skein and knotted it, choosing among the colors of flowers the colors of these perfect, impossible asters, flower within flower, corymbs and umbels, stitched in a time, I will, I will not, I will, I will not. Knot …. Continue Reading >

Field as Auditorium

You say my messages did not get through What sound do messages make as they lose themselves in the ether glissando diminuendo What is the sound of my lost language …. Continue Reading >

The Puddle

In a rut in the dirt road: a vernal pool. A few small, almost transparent water striders twitch the surface, and below them, tadpoles wriggle and float in the limpid water, hundreds of them—all straining cell by cell to be among the living, the fat, full-throated racket and splurge of spring up and down the…

Excerpts from MILLSTONES

The millstone set in a front yard at the intersection of two roads in Carrboro, North Carolina, knows what we lost …. Continue Reading >

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