Category: Poetry

Jigsaw is the tool you use to make one.Such a human hobby, cutting up the picturejust so that, on a bored, dark winter evening,we sit down to make the pieces fit again!But when it’s finished there are always cracks.You have to back away and keep your distanceto cherish the illusion it’s made seamless.We are amongthe

Tiny House North wind’s sizing up the houselike a boxer his opponent, throwing an experimental jab or two before the real buffeting begins.No use trying to sleep.The Hunter Moon cruised off earlyto low-ride that pocked face over some other boulevard. Yesterday, Delaware friends called to saya King tide is slapping their front steps about and

From now on I will declare myself free of all these burdens! Go now, you killers of joy and bliss! Here I stand, glorious, sparkling in the night. I know I can do anything if I tune to the light. Just because I crave chocolate, I can still be the captain of my ship! Keep

My grandmother’s career options were a nurse an office assistant  or a teacher.  The women in my family don’t follow instructions well and we are a little bit woozy so teacher it is.  Educator it is Holders of knowledge and  molder of minds it is Givers of time it is  Drinkers of red wine it

Depression dishes, depression dishes I’m waiting for the moment of manic motivation To move me word Move me Move me Move me word The pile is building like my stress and frustrations A curious collection of mold and stains In that one pot. word Like a pack rat within the dysfunctional comfort of its midden

Flow like a river spirit my dear child contort and shake, transcend your physical form  all that matters is the energy you bring Return to the purity of childhood innocence  with a deep understanding  of all beings that have come before Interpret the omens with a swift foot and open heart  for the creatures above

this secret,  tucked in the vault of my mind  hidden in the holes in my heart  buried behind my buttoned beak lol i promise – this will be my little secret before the water boils and bubbles over the pot –  i promise  i won’t tell i call you because  i crave your caresses  i

beating, battered and bruised  her forlorn longing is not lost upon us  despite splotches black and blue  collected over years of affliction  lol carrying on, day by day  in an exasperated, and anguished type of way her incessant thumping, never halting,  regardless of the purple & green  that shapes mountains and valleys  along her contoured

the snow is refracting the sun’s rays  with an indistinct yellow aura –  shades of blues and greens surround me  as i walk through these woods  block happy little trees dance in the breeze  and i long to feel as free as these tiny specs floating through the air  as the weight of the snow