They Keep Getting Shorter - Dec. 31, 2022
our dog walks once skirting the golf course both sides of the creek all around Sunny Dunes up and down Palm Canyon Drive have become the...
our dog walks once skirting the golf course both sides of the creek all around Sunny Dunes up and down Palm Canyon Drive have become the...
what the hell? I keep kneeing the edge of the bedframe shoulder-bumping doorways scraping my ankles on boulders in the garden as if...
sometimes when the TV is on Oliver slips out to the backyard settles into his favorite security guard chair pricks his ears to tricks of...
maybe accountants do that if one penny off from balancing the books or a physicist when he can’t answer the key quantum question or the...
when we’re rocketing skyward soaring on thermals or even on a first-time float two inches above the earth because love starts with ae...
haven’t many of us asked for a “sign” from God then watched the dog’s tail thump in morse code or wanted to touch Him with our fingers...
but doesn’t hearing I love you steal a bit of breath hover in the air as it pauses outside you waiting to enter? in our world tenderness...
the coyotes howl each a different rhythm pitch and volume and together one painful wail the need so deep it doesn’t stop at the edge of...
I’m on the elliptical trying to determine what shadow puppet the clouds are making on the mountain this morning when two black kids cut...
I’m having English tea in the ceramic bones of a cup and saucer these articles of tradition comfortably served and idly sipped in a...
like a movie preview in the bright lights of my mind I see it hear it stout greetings and bear hugs at the front door the tinkle of ice...
she called me a “card” and I guess I am a joker who’d love to be an ace that would never pass as a king but I don’t like cards and would...
all those ideas that hate the chilly weather sneak inside and slink into the put-away things of summer hide under my sandals inside...
I wonder about us poets our hierarchy of admiration the poetic rank and file the publishing royalty a caste system that the richly-worded...
without a subject a poet is grounded like a butterfly with wet wings and whines and whimpers won’t change the gravity of the situation ...
at home on this rainy two weeks before Christmas having just finished trimming our Christmas tree I sit on the sofa feeling completely...
now I know why they gave me that grade for all those hours I stared out my 5th grade window they thought I was wasting time getting...
just an easy slouch and cushion grab with a prayer that no one phones rings the doorbell or yells for you in the middle of a quiet...