Many literary magazines don't allow submissions to be previously published online, even on personal sites, but here are a few poems to give you an idea of my non-copywriting writing. My most recent publications include"The Atomic Ark" in Tahoma Literary Review, vol. 2 no. 2, Summer 2015, and "Aftermath" in Rattle, issue #43, Spring 2014.
As I leave the hospital, a Morse code of sparrows
watch from a telephone line. Smoke-signal clouds
of swifts billow from the throat of an abandoned chimney.
The world is never not trying to tell us something.
Semaphore in the white shock of a magpie's wing.
The foil wrapper in its beak like a signal mirror.
I don't know any of these languages, but neither
did the augurs. They carried the fates of Rome
in the crook of their craning necks, asking the gods
in the only tongue they had. Will it rain? Will we win?
Can we survive this? What comfort, to translate
six geese flying West: It always does eventually.
A hawk tangled in a pigeon's belly: Not this time,
but the next. Starlings, mimicking church bells: Yes.
I find a fallen nest and try to read its stray feathers
like tea leaves. The world is never not speaking,
but its language is tonal, gradient and vague:
do these cloudy shapes of shed down say heaven
or smoke? Or do I have it backwards—against the dark
coil of the nest, are they the light at the end of a tunnel,
or the sky from the bottom of a well?