I don’t have to heal. My wounds can stay bleeding out, You don’t decide when

I managed to squeeze 7 of the 10 words into my poem, which is set at a movie awards ceremony. The lines about the evening of a thousand stars, and the suitcase in another hall, are transplants from songs in the movie Evita, which hopefully…

the morning is tequila-sunrise orange but the dusk takes on the day straight no chaser spins light liquid gold into starlight into poems the dusk is a writer like me I take my mental illness dry maybe a little bit of my childhood for color…

I was looking forward to the weekend after a hectic week, juggling work and traffic due to torrential rains The forecast predicted a breather Nature enjoys throwing in a mystery The day had been relatively clear We ventured out in the evening, to play in…

I believe in the mystery, —of what the frog choir sings as they vibrate sound oscillating breath from lung to vocal cords in late summer evening light, the throaty croaks in full sermon at the pulpit of love. —of how a wrist to elbow measures…

I lined the street with empty mason jars The heat of the whiskey steamed the cold of the street My raincoat torn The evening brought the dark to me That woman, a mystery Turn to the drink to understand

Froggy Mystery The children ponder the mystery Tomatoes canned in jars Appearing along the streambank When evening reveals its stars They slip into their raincoats Tiptoe across the lawn Then sneak down to the water’s edge Just at the break of dawn They elbow each…

As the winter days ahead begin to darken and draw down I will slip quietly to work inside this golden room. My joy is twofold: in catching the memory here and in finding the moment of light. Early in the morning, this tiny space is…

Children peculating The tomatoes sacred jars In the steam, of the hot afternoon rain   Many a raincoat, billowing Capturing the frogs   In the gathering evening Both,  resting on their elbows Staring at each other Through mystery and glass      

Down the creepy road, She lived in the house She had six children But never a spouse   Under the rays of moonlight, Beneath the beams of stars, She crept outside Wearing a raincoat, carrying a jar   She knelt on her knees and elbows…