Author Archives: Timothy P. Schilling
Thirty years a vegetable
A carrot.
Deep in the ground.
It went the other way.
Not the plucky way to the table,
but its own way, down the Solomon
and up the Ganges.
Night school
Where are they?
It was a coat the color of candy
I didn’t like,
Boston Baked Beans.
The man, he couldn’t help
I didn’t like
those beans.
Houseboats
Thy wind, thy tree —
Thy quaking tree —
Thy bells of consecration
Tree at the drawbridge
Holland is the New England of Europe
Home to the now dead
fisher of cod,
the ominous whale,
Calvin
trees, universities
hemp
and a spiry regret
Tea time
Utrecht Journal 