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These poems are from the forthcoming book of poetry Tall Grasses of Woods Hole and Other Summery Poems.


The immaculate makes room
for the newborn.
She loves her handiwork.
Mystery sings crickets in her ears.
She inhales and a door swings open.
A large rocking chair invites her to sit.
Hinges fall away.
Silence, crickets, breath rock the baby.
The Guest will stay awhile,
perhaps the whole night long.


As night falls,
draping its hush over the shoulders of space,
I am silenced,
a balcony under my feet,
a railing fitted into my palms.

As if by the sweep of a brush,
darkness paints quietude with large smooth strokes
over the din of day.

It is time for night creatures
to sniff the aromatic air,
set off on some drunken venture
of which we may grasp only an inkling
in the rustling of a bush
or a quick screech hurtled into the night.

Life dances in the roots of all things.
The eye widens.
The unseen seen,
holds all.