She would not serve the cup She would rinse it Dry it Hit it and serve it   That is my wife.   A control freaks The meat is not tender enough Not seasoned enough Not broiled enough   That is my wife.   A…

Hope Sonnet   If I could write a poem today with hope I’d fit in all the trees and birds and bears— all animals, the skies and seas and air, republicans, the middles, and the woke   would have their places too, and right beside…

Another World   In another world, not this one a politician apologizes, listens, does better next time.   The drilling stops in another world, not this one we’ll soon burn to the ground.   Women’s vaginas dissolve any undesired penis in another world, not this…

Perfect Silence   Look up in perfect silence at the trees adrift all night: their sails raised to catch the earth’s warm breath.   Tilt back your tired head: Look up in perfect silence at the spreading stars, the brighter Venus, Mars.   When loon…

Running   running my hand slow through a tidepool I catch my fingertip in an anemone whose sticky tentacles taste my skin the way a snake sticks out its tongue or a cat hangs its mouth open for a minute or a sommelier draws the…

Running I keep running into you When all i want to is the exact opposite. I can’t bring myself to face you. I am falling for you and you don’t even know. I want to say I like you. I am scared of how you…

[Prompt: Photo by Robbin Grimm]   Bright Tapestry, Coverlet   Armadillos are said to have no eyeshine, he whispered that first night in my cozy bed.   The Indian mirrorwork coverlet, Shisha, shone its tiny mirrors at us.   The tapetum lucidum is a layer…

She looked gorgeous my precious darling. When she walked down the aisle I thought it was the most beautiful sight. I struggled to hide my tears they just came flowing. The day before our wedding, I was supposed to leave from my parents house for…

[Prompt: Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann]   Haiku After Radiation Cloud Orange grass and red trees Await the acidic rain. Human storm has passed.

[Prompt: Write a poem about a haunting, real or imagined, detailed or abstract]   Haunted by Foods Passed Who could forget loaves of bread stuffed with chocolate-covered cherries, perfect for making French toast on slow Saturday mornings?  That bakery on 4th or 9th street (I…