Monthly Archives: January 2017

Veer, Mere

.. So, there’s a milky white elephant in the room, and we’re all too blind (too tired, too bored) to see it. Your heart tells you it’s a sham, a scam, a giant hat, a pot of nothing. Your hands … Continue reading

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Bawdy Aubade

.. Saucy wench, that moon. Silk-slipping away with morning’s after -glow. She knows a thing or two about slinking away, sinking low when sun cracks open its egg-on-the-face stain. She’s danced all night and now it’s time to tuck in … Continue reading

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Sum Her Up Like This

.. : Some brilliant Blue, soft shirring of breeze. Shade trees. Sand. Inky fingers and salty toes. White pages, fluttering. Waiting. Birdsong. Pine. One wordsong at a time, and a million thoughts to in …-di ……..-go. .. Prompted by Miz … Continue reading

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Schizophrenic Poem

…. This poem has multiple personalities, a couple of voices you might want to (fear) hear. It can converse in verse and tone and tongues, say one thing or no thing or some thing else entirely. It’s (banana) split with … Continue reading

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Talking to Myself Again

.. Shhhhh…see? The world’s an okay place; the world’s got quiet grace and open sky. The world’s my (okay, not oyster, but per -haps) my seashell, echoed ocean. The world is full of good, and good people, and good books … Continue reading

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Slanted Aubade

{It Dawns on Her} .. Oh, that damn sun comes up again. And coffee fills her cup again and one day’s not enough again and it’s all kind of getting under her skin. The adieu of moon, the tilted sky. … Continue reading

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Befriending the Dragon

.. Nothing better than discovering her (s)word, her own strength and song. Realizing the fire was coming from her own center and just needed a spark to give it flight. Whispering her wings to life, her heart to breeze, her … Continue reading

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Five tiny stories in poem pockets

.. Nothing bitter. No coffee, no cold -heart stare, no chairs without comfort. No root. No soot. Nothing batter. No waffles. No pan -cakes, no average. No pitch black night with softball stars. Nothing bit her. Not the love bug … Continue reading

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Holding Up the Sky

.. We were only lying there, counting stars. I think. (After all, it was dark.) Ursa Major was the brightest spark, with a crow or two besides, a ram (and one small flicker -fly.) 88 of them in all, (infinity … Continue reading

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Promenades and Hammers

He died because he wanted to dance. Had a girlfriend named Mary, love of second chances; (Gran left him for a banker years ago). They loved square dancing, and he had those Dougherty knees, perhaps from kneeling on the job … Continue reading

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