Doug Stanfield Poems

I'm nearly old, she said… to no one,
Before the mirror,
Tracing a line down her cheek
With a fingertip,
...

I want you to move in slowly,
To pin me
With hot and deep desire.
Wrap me in liquid fire.
...

I woke up this morning from a dreamy grey half-sleep
with the February rain dripping off the eaves.
A memory floated by that in a previous life
I was a horse. No question.
...

Einstein lit a cigarette
and watched the violet and pastel afterglow
of the first bomb
fade over the desert, inhaled
...

I asked for the superpower of 'Folding' for my birthday.
It cuts out the middle man: 
Just give me a calendar with tricky bits.

I'd fold weeks, months, years, centuries together,
...

The rider and horse moved onto the narrow path into the wilderness, to Cloud Peak,
In the mountains of the Big Horn sheep, to where the Old Ones hold council.

Her hooves were sure- More sure than his heart. This
She sensed, so the big brown mare gave him loan of hers.
...