Nov 24, 2021 | Aging, Alexandrine, Gus Stevens, Irregular Rhyme, Quatrains
I am weary; I am not tired. Though only sleep and jest are true I do not think a rest will do. The river that once ran cold and clear now chokes with green. Mired with the accumulating silt of years. Youth was all constraint and indecision: a white-cold roiling to be...
Jul 5, 2021 | Aging, Alexandrine, Commissioned, Gus Stevens, Irregular Rhyme
You wake before the birds, during the dark’s slow decay into the pale light of dawning day. Your mind holds thoughts— that hold no words, like dreams too-soon forgot. Outside, a lonesome cry, a beckoning belief that there is more than silent...
Jul 24, 2019 | Alexandrine, Gus Stevens, Hexameter
I once plucked a beach rock from his watery bed; beautiful, once brushed of sand, he did not complain, but now that he’s home, he just lies there–dull and plain. Somewhere along the dirt path home he must have died. A lifeless grey replaced the impossible...
Aug 21, 2018 | Alexandrine, Daughter, Grief, Gus Stevens, Hexameter, Love
The little girl did not know what he was at first— the yellow thing that did not drop if you let go. Still he filled her with so much joy she’d either burst or grow wings so she could float with him through the air. He smiled from above while she laughed along...
Aug 7, 2018 | Alexandrine, Gus Stevens, Hexameter, Seasons, Summer
The wading pool is shrinking with the wasted sun and the yellows of summer drain slowly away exposing red bricks beneath the glittering spray. With cast-off toys and leaves littered about their feet, the bone-soaked nine-year-olds will squeal, crash, and run through...
Jul 18, 2018 | Alexandrine, Daughter, Dream, Gus Stevens
I wonder if the tearful child, not yet perceiving what it means to fall asleep, might believe she dies each night. Afraid to go alone, she chokes on her goodbyes, “Please don’t forget me! O please leave the door ajar!” But the swallowing Unknown will...
