dandelions in the rain


she wears a scarf
of scribbled poem fluff,
just thick enough
us. and her voice cracks
open this one last stone
of truth:

the day’s a storm
of sting and silence
and we’re all just
waiting for that flower
umbrella’d hope.


A second offering for today’s Q44. I’m hosting. Come play! 



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Sky Calling


The stars are sharp
tonight, tongues of fire
that freeze and float
…………..and fall,
and we wish
they would un-Braille
….us, sing
these syllables
in a language we might
hear and

The moon?
……..She’s just
a golden-throated swallow
with a voice of stone.


It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and I’m hosting. Come play! 


Posted in moon poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , , | 28 Comments

small murder in the parking lot

awwww, sorry buddy, I say
to the quite dead crow
on my way into vons.

he’s a black asphalt pancake
now, but i wonder if aliver-him
was there for spice, or
salt. not his fault
everything’s moving
so fast.

Written for Poetic Asides


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By strange and varying degrees


Tempt us not,
for we are waiting
for the hot hot breath
of dragon summer breeze,
the way the trees can sway
a soul. The balmy blame of sea.

Thread us not
through flotsam fleet
nor pirate plea for treasured
land, the tempered hand of sun on
cooling face. The blind erase and trace
of nothingness that only moon can bring.



Lil’s got a fun prompt for us over at dVerse Poetics today. Come play!




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long gray braids and fading footprints


you look older now
whispers that naughty moon,
my wanderlust gypsy soul sister.

i silence her in sea
-glass, sand and salt,
true-north pebbled
as the stars lie
in wait for me.


twiglet #137





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In Answer to a Startled Sun


We rise, apprised
of nothing.

We sip
and sigh
at clouds.

We carve our secret names
out loud on caves
and canvas,
steep our skin in freckled
fret. Then

that big hope-balloon-moon
breaches the horizon,
reminding us
we’re not home


It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and Mish has a great word for us today.




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Silver Surf(er)


There’s a wonder
to the places where water
folds into land,
where the taste of salt
on lips is magic.

Dig your toes in deep
and steep your heart
in Blue. Watch the moon
plop in,
full and fat
and content only
to be consumed.

Sift your soul
in seaglass,
and you’ll never
be the same.

And when you get back
just hold the world
and wish
for rain.


Written for Poetic Asides








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