Val Morehouse Poems

On the 5th of January, Twelfth Night, the pine tree, a silent presence in the
window began to chirrup. I thought the chortling in the darkness must be
some poor bird, perhaps a starling, lost in the snow, or a sparrow
roused from sleep, its head untucked from its wing, and it confused
...

Playing in time like an Aeolian melody, goat stars
bound devil mountain’s crevasses.
Like the fall of an eagle ancient stones cracked,
and rained through pine and bay
...

2 a.m. and all’s well.
From black depths of sleep

I am drawn by a song.
...

Four pearls lay tucked in the fronds
of my front door wreath.
Eggs. Smooth. Warm. Alive.
Each day I touched them before leaving
...

With ruler and pencil
poised above the river of words the writer
has been schooled to diagram.
The blank sheet demands answers.
...

Ripley: “Get away from her, you Bitch! ”
___________From Aliens
...

It’s 104° under a dome of sky so white it mugs the eye.
Like Sisyphus you push the boulder
of your body across an asphalt desert
only to find the car door lit like a match
...

On the small geography of this page
I set lines into poetry.

No mere plant, this is a leafy
...

_____For Astronaut Sunita Williams who captured the images


Swirling veils of storm, the sapphire carved
...