The booster’s needle pricks my arm Avoiding Covid, which causes harm. arm is a bit sore nothing more than a jab but it feels like a stab odd since I’m addicted to tattoos does the jab bother you?

The Headwaters of Hawksbill Creek The creek, hidden in a low valley high in the Shenandoah Valley, Is a place of seclusion and ambiance made especially for me. I watch the hikers clad in t-shirts, shorts, suntan lotion, and sunglasses Amble up the well-worn trail…

    Reflections   I feel her eyes upon me, her gaze so intense it invades my soul, searching darkest corners for skeletons forgotten, secrets left untold lies to expose. She seeks to destroy me.   ****A nonet poem is made up of nine lines,…

The air is wet But its not really raining The parking lot is a still lake Dampness seeped into his shoes “Why would anyone want to live here?” Shouted to the clouds he knew all his life

As the world continues to burn our rain has been more than abundant The run-off ditches on my woodsy, walking route have been full and once altered the foot path as a reminder of water’s resistance to human design The troughs filled with swaying bright…

In a Post Pride Thunderstorm And the rain comes, emptying the main street of all its characters. Only a few remain. Running around as the brutal drops keep chasing them. Your hair is wet, dripping with joy and both our eyeliners are writing new words…

Memorial For The Family Cabin   This Summer – no baptism into cold water at the end of the dock. No yearly ritual of swimming to the buoy and back, freeing my dormant muscles from winter’s confines.   This Summer – we have memories, a…

Sitting in front the Atlantic violent waves defying logic and physics A constant menance, yet still therapeutic Take a dip the voice in my head says No better way to connect with my ancestors taking as slaves Diving in with a smile on my faces…

2. ‘Dadball’   Don’t you want to meet him? Their line of questioning begins when I tell them he left before I was born there were so many things he could’ve taught me like throwing these baseballs with good form but, I explain, I’ve never…

    Water   Twirling a thousand miles per hour, I don’t notice. This dry outpost is almost seventy percent water, I don’t notice.   Submersing in womblike wet warmth melts my mind into primal time when I swam like a fish before I squirmed…