medium moon 

she’s channeling the dead 
again, a largess undertaking 
since they rarely shine back. 

And no matter how full 
she gets, half
-baked sugar cookie or ivory 

ring shine, she’s living 
l  a  r  g  e
and feelin’ 
just fine. 


Written for Poetic Asides.

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{and other theories of the dawn} 

(an aubade) 


we oh
the sun, rose 
to his thorny 

even though this day’s got teeth. 
even though the moon had pull. 
even though all things flew south. 

we looked him straight 
in his pretty, blingy mouth 
and tried to make sense 
of all this bright babel, 
the rabble-roar of want

the haunt 
and hue and cry of day. 

Written for Poetic Asides.

Posted in aubades, poetic asides poems | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

the moon (and other broken mirrors) 

– an aubade 


mirror, mirror 
on (and off) the wall; 
so we say to seek 
our fairest days
find ways to catch 
glimpses of our  
eyes in stormy skies,
the face we look 

Snow White 
got it right: 
the apple’s poison;  
       so’s the dawn. 

Merril’s got a great Quadrille for us over at dVerse. Come play!

Posted in aubades, dVerse poems | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments


see, what happened 
was that she walked outside 
and breathed the blue sky 
and saw the sun’s smile and 
breathed and believed 
and turned her happen
-stance into a happy 






Written for Poetic Asides.

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meanwhile the moon 

fancies herself 
a flower
in a field of star 


from the soil of sky. 


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it’s begun. 

the intricate weave 
of lines defined by 
and shine. 

i watch her knit 
her home – 
a lair
a net 
a perfect lattice 
-work of art. 

alone in my own 
staggered start, 
i wish i had 
but half her focus
her tensile power 
her sunlit gossamer beauty. 

Kim’s got a great prompt over at dverse. Come play!

Posted in dVerse poems | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

Aubade to All Things Broken

The birds seem to know 
today’s got teeth. They caw
and cry to a waking 

Strangled sigh. 
Unfeathered hope. 
Slight scorch of sun.

the moon 
smiles on.

Poetic Asides Wednesdays

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A fair 70º after 3 days at 90º+. 


A spring breeze stirs
and these desert blooms 
nod their glee. 

Written for Misky’s Twigs.

Posted in twiglets | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments

Cartography 101 

There’s an old man 
on the corner of North 
and True who says 
he’ll show me 
   the way

but his compass rose 
blooms at the bottom 
       of a bottle 


so I think I’ll stick 
with this molasses sky 
and a map

                -led moon. 

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

Posted in April PAD 2023 | Tagged , , , , | 56 Comments

one last flabbergasp 

this poem is all a
-flutter, a-mutter
-ment of swallowed moon 
and muddled sun. 

she’s one (i am
 foot in, three 
(blank) sheets 
to the wind 
and counting. 

she’s a fountain of be 
-erment, a copper sun
rise penny spent 
on dandelion wishes
with fluff-fine handles. 

{bring candles.}

she’s throwing a surprise 
party of balloons, baboons  
and cheese on rye. with cake. 

she’ll take you somewhere 
stunned and startled 
dashed and dartled 
stirred and shaken
(this end) 

she’ll fill your cup with rum
-bled phrase, a haze of days 
astonished. the amaze of star
-stung sky. a hula hoop of moon. 
a swoon of time. 

the conga line 
forms to the left, bereft of all 
but glee. she’s leading 
(the fray) 
the way with a sigh that says 

follow me. 

In April, she poems. This one is probably the last.

Posted in April PAD 2023 | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments