by Deborah Bayer | Dec 29, 2022 | Poems, Poems (2004 - 2015)
Star Light, Star Bright My sister says I go on and on about Miss Ingram, says I must be in love with her, but I’m not. I just like the way her dark hair hangs long, straight down her back, the way she smells like lavender when she comes to our desks to check...
by Deborah Bayer | Dec 22, 2022 | Poems, Poems (2004 - 2015)
Story for My Sister The moon sits on the left shoulder of Cristo Redentor. At least, that’s the way it seems to you from your gutter in Rio. You lay down here to cool off in the fire hydrant spray, one of the best hangover remedies. This time, the white...
by Deborah Bayer | Dec 8, 2022 | Poems, Poems (2004 - 2015)
Rising Incense Full sunlight can blind. I prefer the subdued brightness of Diebenkorn’s Ocean Park 117. The yellow on the bottom is a ground and a base. It works: black and gray float on top, oil and smoke broken up by the frames of a skylight. Ochre and...
by Deborah Bayer | Nov 17, 2022 | Poems, Poems (2004 - 2015)
Smoke Trees and Mountain Ash Because I never learned the names of flowering trees, they all seem ornamental, with tiny hard fruit that softens with the frost. Then the birds can eat. Seeds scatter, form new plants bred to please the eye, not for juice or...
