I really don’t consider myself a poet, but I keep getting poems published.


Travel poem about one of the perfect places in the world, the Tempietto Longobardi in Northern Italy. Direction to the Six Virgins

A coming-of-age poem written about my time on the Squaw Creek Ranger Station outside Gallatin Gateway, Montana. Love that they used the author photo they did. Spire Rock

Happy this one found a home, as I am obsessed with the Helga paintings and this is about one of them: In The Ekphrastic Review, a response to Wyeth’s study for Barracoon.

Because as they grow up, they occasionally slip back, and we are oh-so-lucky to catch them in our arms at those moments: In Mothers Always Write, a poem called Seventeen 

I would preface or explain this poem but every women who reads it knows someone it’s about: new in Subprimal, a journal of poetry and art, Our Dark Angel, Endlessly Falling

I’m extremely proud to be three-times-published by the extraordinary journal of the fantastic (in the fantasy sense), GOBLIN FRUIT:

A work in the Indiana Voice Journal about what it takes, and what it takes out of me to get to the day job each morning: Working in Old Town

In Novocaine and Napalm, a bitter screed about divorce: Disassembly Required


(just a few, there are more)


Seek It—Writers and Artists Do Sleep, Toronto, Red Claw Press, 2012


My poem in this one is a beaut.


Impractical Cats A collection of 17 works: an exquisite ode to felines. Medusa’s Laugh, October 2013


You can order this one for your cat-loving friends. The detailed binding on this charming wee tome is handcrafted and handstitched with a cat’s face. And many of the poems are in the actual shapes of cats. Seriously, I just love this one.

San Pedro River Review Spring 2017 has my poem, “Highway 99.” And a trailer on the cover, which is so pleasing to me.