Body Language - May 31, 2022
with a mere glance leaves tell you how they feel I’d like to learn the finer points of body language something more than just the “Hi” of...
with a mere glance leaves tell you how they feel I’d like to learn the finer points of body language something more than just the “Hi” of...
the birth colors of mesquite leaves or baby’s skin something with the tint of innocence in the scheme of emergence translucent spirit not...
it rained late last night leaves cleaned green and dripping wet a dog shakes itself the pen’s side of life same struggle for survival...
where I live thunderstorms usually arrive to a mountain’s detour where clouds are spun into a collar that wraps the throat of the valley...
through the trees that strikes a water lily stretched in full bloom can brand your eyes like a full moon emerging from clouds announced...
are the flowers that living manages to step on accidentally or otherwise
will be talked about over coffee the disruption to hats and hair styles on the phone the hard yard cleanup damn leaves in the pool...
a poem-less day for the poet worn out by chores or a painter passing 10 times by the canvas ignoring the call or the musician who eats on...
when my soul and gravity never shake hands joy feels extremely light does it not? a helicopter that carries us above the elbows and...
I am called and I’ll nuzzle any muzzle lean on legs collapse on laps I am a pit bull with a blood thirsty urge for a f f e c t i o n
you know the feeling Friday afternoon’s subtle lift last day of the week last minute of work but to a tree what is a weekend? or to an...
last dip of the tea ball the steam-snake strikes my face the smell of morning promises afternoon disappointments gazing in the dark water...
I know it’s been a long time since I muttered the words Dear God Hail Mary or PLEASE, Jesus…! yesterday alone I performed at least a...
hard heels and stately dogs that walk halls of white marble echo a certain opulence where memories and dog hair collect in corners the...
I know we fly around the sun but poetry doesn’t work at the end of a held string much better to pretend we direct our own worlds using...
shade on a hot afternoon sun on a chilly morning the heart wrapped and protected then opened with a welcome sign seems we want love and...
it couldn’t have been the Palo Verde’s thousands of fallen flowers once happy yellow faces lay shriveled sad strewn over the ground as...