Archive for May, 2023

In a Tin Cookie Can

And though I am old, 
and no longer spry like 10,
I still collect the odd rocks
I find along the way

cc: CC ‘23

I Got Rhyzomes

And she and I’d
while away hours,
eating wild white rice
with sweet-sour beets

(…who could ask for anything more?)
cc: CC ‘23

A goldfinch alights on my lemon tree
and I politely request a song, a lilt
if you will

she a silhouette on a branch
against dying sky

a throaty thrill,
a true trill from
the heart

I feed you

Still you fly

cc: CC '23

Lesson 11

Never underestimate 
the loneliness of anyone

cc: CC ‘23

Morning Tree, Oh…!

What happened to the morning dove,
she who’d croon her trailing lilt
too soon, too soon she would seem to say
in sun or daybreak’s mist,
her counterpoint in step
to the finch and the wren
both common as she in a world newly lit
such as then, such is now

cc: CC ‘23

The Stylus (May 24, 2013)

Salt rims her eyes,
where tears had been.

Mascara runs on
jacquard cheeks; Pierrot.

Pale lips part:
shells, hollow,

Luminous anemone,
fluorescent trails,
miles of blue in green.

God, her aroma
sweet, incense,
sweat, essence
hot on the exhale.

Nothing so soft
as the space between her eyes.

Ride her nose,
down dimples,
for lips.

Arabesques ’bout her lobes,
carve the neckline’s
long mortise.

Filigree atop her skin,
dampened, one continuous kiss,
without time nor need for air.

I yell for the world to “Clear!”
a time for fibrillation.
(I’m thinking maybe titillation?)

Or getting to the point:

I lose myself in her,
double our hulk,
our girth.

For every front,
a back. For every figure,
a ground. For every pull on the string,
fluttering wings in the palm.

For every locked gaze
lays a walkway.

A john boat, a fair, the tunnel of love,
caramel, candy apples.

We coil together,
we roll and we tumble,
play-doh, rock, and sinew.

And in the end,
she’d prop up on elbows,

she’d say,
“You’re my favorite people.”

cc: CC '13, '23
I'd seen you shine
from different angles
once from afar above
so tiny yet
you filled
the sky
and I
resigned myself
to float
down to you
for you
so you
and I
could sway

and we 
are just
a beacon now

cc: CC '23

A single snap of a finger
aloft, midair, a sly smile
in soft light, cunning and cute
it will shoot you 
straight in the eye, 
no lie - words...
not bullets, of course 

cc: CC '23


on branches
outside silhouettes
against curtains

cc: CC ‘23

Down and Out at the Willow

Not a state of mind
at a local tavern
but a play
we’d run
playing touch
on the front lawn

catch the ball
in its shade

cc: CC ‘23
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