Richard Shaw is a poet residing in the Connecticut River Valley of Massachusetts. A former dancer and choreographer, he spends part of his time as a Rolfer®, aligning, balancing and making more spacious the human body. His debut collection will be published in 2018. Recent work appears in the valedictory issue of Blue Lyra Review.


Through the gardens
and out across the fields
everything has passed its fullness
the pokeweed is withering
and the sunflowers’
already poor posture
has worsened

crabapples plink
the porch boards
like a marimba all night
now even my old joys
are worn to a luster
as they come back to find me

there’s a granite capstone
on an old abandoned well
that when slid off
throws deep reverberations
of low notes
through a woodwind reed
hidden long inside me

in the silence that follows
which lasts for days
are petals just opening
of a blood red flower
I didn’t know I contained

now at dusk
my hand brushes
against a pile of keys
and through touch alone
fingertips find the one

which unlocks
a grand door
to a ruined cathedral
shimmering with

shadows of wings

Three Summer Openings

A stream’s
water flute
calls over rocks
and after
dawn’s vermilion gate


Wild turkeys single file
a noontide orchard
heads bobbing
above the clover
like swimmers in a river

follow that fresh trail
to an entry in the hemlocks
push through boughs of
deep shade
into timelessness

July heat wave
the tiger lilies are in bloom

fireflies prepare the meadow at dusk
hanging tiny lanterns


*The Galway Review 6 – Printed Edition, April 2018