after sylvan esso  bass thump guitar pluck shoulders sway finding a rhythm  synth pulse voice cut through press into  coherent cacophony  marinate  all together now  words flow together more feeling then  decipherable lyrics harmonies sneak  voices crescendo  another voice joins three now rhythm moves down…

Daylight warms the window as I stretch my arms in bed. Lost in contemplation about something dumb I said. Or was that just a dream? I try to clear the existential cobwebs from my sleep-filled head. I rise to face the morning, greet my beloved…

Poem #7 In This Garden The sky is a witness and accomplice to daytime, Daytime a brightness the night lacked. Lack is a thing among others your loving ,a midnight thief, took away. Away with all the noises and stresses of life we are in…

after franny choi  the world keeps ending, and the world goes on  the same could be said for the days the months, the years, the decades all neverending ending things    it used to be hard to get out of bed on weekday mornings  the…

Some days feel like too much. Some days not enough. Some days are easy breezy. Some days seem extra tough. Some days we dance on waking. Some days feel like too much. Sometimes the only difference. Is the feel of love-warmed touch. Some days we…

(Not exactly a) Text Prompt Every year I include a song prompt. The idea is that you start the song and write a poem while listening to it, starting the song over as needed (or not).  There have been protests in the past when I…

Twirling round and round, clouds overhead. Swinging higher and higher,flying. Arms out, head back, twirling round and round until the sandy yard comes up to meet me. I hold the laughing baby, dancing through the house twirling round and round.

Two birds united, one parrot the other cannot two union in a knot Each half makes a better half

who knew that weeding the garden could spark a neighbor to do the same my actions for the benefit of the herbs hers for the summer melons   to empower a community of strangers who knew that weeding the garden could jump-start a nascent movement…

Wait for me at the top of the old stairs where the creaks are the loudest and splinters catch your nightgown as you walk up to bed   By the old water pump wait for me to talk of fairies and nymphs that play in…