crickets gossip in shadowy corners the moon glows through the clouds the morning starts evil-gray as the past maintains its grip waiting...

time steals your hourly balance as often as clouds slip in and out of circulation and since you can’t accumulate or invest minutes or...

happiness remains a greatly needed shortcut for those short on time

I don’t know who came up with “Charlie Brown’s Pie-in-the-Sky” and not something more imposing like “God” just thought I’d start my day...

nothing out there can touch the emptiness after dark we need each other for that

a needle of touch elates my skin the smoke of a moment gets me high I can drink non-stop many pints of affection in certain gray moods...

or the crown falls from a king’s head or a monk slips on a drunken kiss or wishes get blown off course or plans fall into quicksand we...

nothing stops routine like a chocolate sky and with the delivery of rain a probe of cracks a patching scramble the story of our lives -...

has to have a lot more than a pretty face more than good looks or a fancy jacket being popular or well known to get me interested enough...

cutting into Sunday’s silence the song of a young lark strikes ears still in bed with mouths yet to start their motors of needless words...

like the dawn deciding what to make of each day your ear enters each shadow with a peek to probe their soundless center and knows it is...

I bet my old desperate poems chuffed through a raspy throat and scribbled under wet eyes never entered a single ear my drawn-out struggle...

there are tender words stuck on your cheek sweet ones that swing from your eyelashes whispered ones that cling to your upper lip I saw...

you know that quiet pressure put on ripening corn and reddening tomatoes? the encouragement of hungry caresses or a trowel to weed out...

every birth starts a stitch but not every blanket warms this world when death calls us do we really want others to worry about where...

in my napping-dream I’ve nearly filled a 50 gallon can hacking pulling and tossing the pond’s overgrown taro plants when I’m awakened by...

Do you lurk somewhere in the shadow of flesh that consumes us or hide in a desperate thought when we’ve lost our minds or dive into a...

in all the years spent honing the calls of others did you simply forget to rehearse your own melody? such a breathtaking song list except...

mother’s knotted and crooked finger points at the towering eucalyptus and the large swelling on the trunk What is that? It’s called a burl...

sometimes life pounds and pushes grinds and batters me its fiercest currents seeking to break me into ever smaller pieces but at night...