Val Morehouse Poems

Bare feet carry that first cup of
morning to you full of night’s
disagreement black and
bitter without sweet apology.
...

I have been ambushed, startled of late by
days once lost, the unimportant rising
with a sudden star-burst of insight;
gone nova when I heard my own voice reading
...

____”Librarians much prefer reading to the “infantry”
rather than becoming the infantry in a cultural war.”
...

Face it. There is no end,
but the end of the month.

Not enough bread around the sandwiches.
...

So long ago, juniper and lemon burning
my tongue, evergreen choreography.
I remember in sweat and muscle.
...

My voice moves with your name.
A sweep of wings over high ground

lips chord icy echoes the way
...

Shocked by sudden tenderness I lift
your gangling body, Many Knees,
from within the closing door jam.
Ah. Squish not the bigness you have so
...