Three poems from my older notebooks, for my brother.
poetry
Another from my notebook for a dear friend, gone 10 years.
Remembering all the angels.
Another from my notebook on a cold late-winter morning.
From my notebook for a new year.
Do we even know?
Fear may be the sign you’re getting closer to the truth, but it’s still a hard place to be right now.
Everyone counts, in every counting, exhausted but traveling on.
An epic moment in our country’s history.
One year gone, and a lifetime of remembering. The Palace just isn’t the same.
Goat Palace 