The year winds down…. This poem is from the new collection, EMBLEM.


All my undone actions wander
naked across the calendar,
a band of skinny hunter-gatherers,
blown snow scattered here and there,
stumbling toward a future
folded in the New Year I secure
with a pushpin: January’s picture
a painting from the 17th century,
a still-life: skull and mirror,
spilled coinpurse and a flower.

1 Comment

  1. Janice Gary says:

    I love those first four lines. It's like a eulogy for all those things planned, thought about, maybes, should do's — gives the unlived life a home, a place to lay down flowers and move on from. I look at this and can turn to a new year of things that will be done and not done. Thank you.

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