Tag Archives: Jory Post

      for Lance I’d carve totem poles in place of headstones. They’d tell whole stories, better than inscriptions. They’d be the right height: five to six feet for men and women, twenty-one inches for babies. I’d hand-paint them. Crushed strawberries for red. Melted chocolate truffles for brown. The skin of eggplants for purple. […]

I was told by someone years ago not to write about the moon. That it was overused. A cliché. That was before I started writing poetry. But now, how can I resist? By avoiding the usual metaphors. By not having the rays of moonlight land on rippling waves at midnight. By never having the moon […]