peculations and price of tomatoes in the papers— the evening fills out with the croaks of frogs on the street two boys elbowing each other raising the steam inside one raincoat  

Tomato plants drown in the garden. I shrug out of my raincoat and shiver, waiting for the kettle to steam. Children cry out beyond the kitchen window, jumping between puddles like drunken frogs, searching for mason jars in the flood; the waters continue to rise.

The brightest tomatoes are lined up on the windowsill ready for parboiling, and putting up into Mason jars. A raincoat drips in the hallway while steam gathers in the kitchen. The children are hollering and running through the house, while the woman’s elbows bend to…

I Don’t. II But, of course, you must. As we all must. The Great Eye waits for each In turn to meet its gaze. III The shoggoth whirled in the cosmic winds. It was all. IV A man and a woman Are none. A man…

The time is, 2PM or, frankly, central time 12:00 My clock chimes on my laptop undisturbed By my being. I’m at brunch With two delightful beings Who would rather discuss the world Than anything else Be it, 2, or 12, or 9:00 In Tunisia they…

Steam rises from summer sidewalk, fat droplets fall from humid air evening rumbles with heat lightning and frogs rumble with mating calls. August won’t ask for a raincoat, and July won’t keep still in a jar.  

The children worked and tilled the soil, they had to do the work and toil, they did the jobs and got the pay. It wouldn’t always be that way. Upon their eighteenth year on earth, they had earned what they were worth. It was then…

The block party was beginning to wind down The evening had long since drew down her curtains into the dark of night the percussion of frog ribbits moved everyone to a relaxed beat Steam rose from the remaining still-sizzling burgers and hot dogs on the…

Staring at nothing, lost in her own world Misty-eyed, glazy Indefatigable sorrow, unrelenting, deafening Silent sobbings The eyes, the eyes, says it all. Will there be no let-up? Will it be a continuing restlessness? It was half-expected, the excruciating pain, Yet still she’s hurting. Unsuspectingly…

evening comes as loneliness waits wrapped in its raincoat – as fate doth fake promises of youth purloined amidst life’s mystery all sadness is born elbowing in upon my gait – as if to say no longer can you wait, to find things that once…