Torrent Salamander Rhyacotriton variegatusI marvel at the orange, polka-dotted skin of the salamanderwho suns on the river’s pebbled edge.He never goes too far from the waterthat gave him birth.His pale bellycarefully hugs the rocks;his thin skin all that separates his moist heartfrom disaster.His dear, damp, thrilling heart. Published on The Laundry Line, 24 February, 2026.
Category Archives: Poetry
The Interview
The Interview — after Vanity Fair — The Proust Questionnaire She asks, “What trait do you most deplore in yourself?” All I have are these dried roses and this lump of stolen amber.“On what occasion do you lie?” These black Ariat boots are the last thing he bought me. “What do you most value in …
The River
The River I haven’t smoked in more than 15 yearsthough some days, suddenly… I stop, wish for a drag,that first catch of smoke in my lungsand the rising hum of nicotine in my bloodthat brought words cascading from my brain.At 64, I’ve begun to miss those mornings,wearing my grandmother’s pale blue bathrobein the smoke saturated …
Analog
AnalogWe have swallows in our barn. A week ago I found three broken egg shells underneath one of the nests. My birthday was two days ago. All I can remember from my phone call with Joe is the silences.This morning, I heard the call of nestlings begging for food. The sound is a single note …
Heat Haze
Heat HazeI want salt’s tenderness and the taste of your flesh on my tongue. The softness of peaches in summer when the days are too long. I want oregano and lemons. The sweet bitterness of tonic and lime pulling the summer heat out of my skin.I want the musk of sun-warmed blackberries eaten while standing …