Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, January 25, 2018


Like a spindle,
it’s just there

and yet it runs 
through everything I do.

It is the thing around which
all the turning takes place.

It will take whatever I give it
and twist it into thread.

How tightly it winds
is up to me 

and starts with
how I work the wheel.

Thursday, January 18, 2018


I am trying.
I am really trying
to stay with you.
To stay with the diversions 
and deflections
because I think
you are taking me,
taking me some place
worth going to.
So I wait for the punch line,
for the needle in the haystack.
But they keep not coming.
And so, I finally just ask:
What’s your point?
And that’s when it comes
like a catapult, the non sequitur,
your answer that makes no sense  
given what we’ve been talking about.
It sends me flailing away
into the distance, into a mote
of confusion, from where I see,
bobbing all by myself,
a fortress that will have
no visitors today.

Thursday, January 11, 2018


I am the helium
that fills it,
the plastic
that surrounds it,
the string
that has me holding it
in the carnival
where I carry it.
I am the child in the circus,
in the Big Top.

I am all the children
that are there
with their big red balloons,
who at different intervals
let them go 
while they excitedly watch 
as they rise toward the tent’s peak,
toward its tight pucker.

There the balloons stay bouncing
against each other—against 
all that red—trying 
to get out.

I am all these things at once
if I go through the world
always thinking I’m right.

Thursday, January 4, 2018


Maybe the problem is…
I am trying too hard
to be the wheeler-dealer,
the go-between, the fast-talker,
the auctioneer.

Maybe I’m the wrench
in the works.

Maybe I should go
straight to prayer
to do my bidding for me.

Maybe I should ask it outright:
Prayer, how do I pray?

And if I do…
Maybe the real Auctioneer
will wordlessly answer 
and serenity will become 
my Sotheby’s.