fingers weave yours and mine you press hard demanding punishing hurtful are these my fingers is this love

WRITING A POEM ON POEM Today I must write a poem on poem Should I search on Google for inspiration? That is not a creative solution It will only lead to cheating and frustration What should my poem pattern be? Or should I first go…

3am poem 1 First Responders, Lahaina, Maui, HI, 8/9/2023 “Diana Khoi Nguyen, Selkie Weaning Young (Redux)” I imagine they “trailed fingers down and against grains of” ash before the futility of rising left them empty armed the nameless strewn, powder on sand, around their boots…

We had all the money in the world and wanted a tiny house She said there’s this gate house for sale gates not included but it has this road it bubbles like an island in the middle of this nowhere road with nice yellow stripes…

Late at night, driving through wilderness a little shack, glowing with light beacon in middle of nowhere – cue theremin The road diverges on either side of the shack I am headed in, does anyone ever come out? I stop, maybe a hundred feet short…

Ekphrastic Response to photo by Birk Enwald I self-imposed this block from you. A “V” for Victory for me. It’s about perspective. This is the path you do not cross because alien space can view my “V” for victory. This is a landing path, my…

We slipped into the night our stars wrapped in clouds, we tossed our dreams into the ocean and swept yesterday away. Beneath the moonlight l surface l taste the earths breath, for a moment l dare to dream , to hope that l have meet…

I wear time, present, future, past. It feels like a movie that moves way to fast. In the mirror everyday, I see change. Looking for the me I know, it’s all so strange. If time is an illusion, a man made thing. Wouldn’t it be…

A check point vacant this is how I start the game wordless and alone. – Sandra Johnson, 9/2/2023  

Your morning and mine spent bedside Your worry and mine shared while I try to wake up and your internal alarm pushed you out of bed like an invading army of ghosts. Your breakfast and mine, cigarette on the porch as you ruminate on where…