The poems collected in my volume, There is no statuary in our garden except for the plastic spacemen occasionally surfacing, come together as a set of field notes of my experiences, especially, in reclaiming the city lot where we live. We have a small kitchen garden on one side of the house and a larger one, “the swamp,” on the other. The lessons never seem to end.
the garden looks great, so luxurious to have cut flowers indoors
a second sprig of laurel in my lair
against the deep velvet of Siberian iris
now we’re sinking to detail …
a bucket of strawberries, to the office
For more on my poetry collection and others, click here.