around the yard last night the restless things of spring step onto the page this morning and wait inside the paper’s border by ten ...

because Love’s kitchen puts beggars and billionaires in the same soup line

a great poem begins when the reader (OK me) elbows past the poet and enters the story through a side door as a muted observer I slowly...

for a fast rabbit it was a dramatic entrance and smart well-funneled north sided overhung with a dense branch shaded from discovery a...

it’s ready-made takeout boxed on a rock* a lemonade stand giveaway of words sweet or spiced home-cooked for the soul so what does a...

as love’s shift approaches she’s already awake and times her punch card to an imprecise moment when she casually drops seeds of affection...

sometimes we eat only half a donut maybe as often as we tell a half truth? predictably some white powder of guilt always remains

between riding the tough buck on saddled rides of wild stallions or the soft lift on feathered backs of smiling ducks we shift our grip...

age and its army of years are not your sickness or the enemy it’s the risks never taken and possibilities lost with them on a whim do...

gold moon licks my eyes she should raise up her webbed net dreams have powdered wings