Flower petals fade, Bright colors turning dingy and grey, While clouds tumble down hills and cliffs to bury the lowlands. Every living creature that is able, flees. This destruction, Molten fire running as rivers across continents, Is unstoppable. Only the unrelenting seascape can resist its…

I buried his head beside the cat’s grave in my neighbor’s yard She’s too busy mourning abortions to notice the freshness of the soul… She prays to her dead pets and pastors that the world will be a better place She doesn’t know that her…

Brown, furry, friendly Little scamp nipping my heels Begs for nightly walks

O Sparrow O sparrow, dear love, where to today? Gliding on the wind, its gentle sway To find bliss unreasonable today? To gather freedom and away O sparrow, dear love, where to today? To find love unconditional do say Your ways, dear sparrow, create envy…

Like my own fingers holding the cup I live by I drink deeply and swim within the liquid we share. This space that is between only knits us, like an exoskeleton, tighter together, a strange organism that exists in spite of it’s Self, for each…

They call her a woman, that luminous nighttime lamp. Was it, perhaps, her coy face peeking behind gossamer curtain clouds? Or could it be her gentle luminosity, her changeable personality? I see her each evening, My love, my life, so beautifully full and bright. My…

Change Virginia Carraway Stark Do you feel How everything happens Now and then Without Knowing Change just comes Creeping in Pouncing On heavy feet Who knows what is Coming next Never knowing Always growing Hoping That what comes next Is better than the last

We sensed the voice of reaction but we were still too busy to tell. It was born from unconscious inaction, and there was no warning bell as it planned it’s sickly hell. But before we noticed it had begun the flag of Fascism blocked our sun.   We watched as voices spitting bile…

Hitting double digits on the poem count, the spoonfuls of coffee are getting bigger & I’ve had to do something I was hoping to avoid — making a kind of list poem using occurrences of things twenty — but I can’t get bogged down here… still…

No, no, not the children, who’ve long been found, nursed and fed, clothed and bundled off to the treadmill. No, not them.  It’s the mothers who are missing.   They’re wandering somewhere out there, thinking they’ve found a new life, not at all like the…