the Joyful Conqueror arm wrestlesthe Sorrowful Scared Cynicwho’s used to losing Wild Dreamer kicksthe Careful Rule Followerin the shins under the tableso Sh*t-stirrer starts up,knocking over a chairinto Peacemaker, who spillsher drink onto the stifledRealist’s crisp white shirt the Diplomat steps forwardbut procrastinates for an instantand gets shoved out ofthe way by the Bitter GossipContinue reading “Taking Sides”
Category Archives: poetry
Groundhog Day
Up north, trouble is steeping awaya cold brew in the worksan icy blue cloud on the weather maplike a smudge of something borrowedturning up where it doesn’t belong The kitchen is a greenhousesnug and tightly stocked as the fridgewhere heat, not freeze, means calamity But the storm, if it arrives, is hours awayso for nowContinue reading “Groundhog Day”
Earth
stripped down now,she adorns herself with winteran invisible layer exposed by absencea rough coat of ragged barkand spindled stickswith a scarf of last summer’s decay little birds hop at her shoulderswhile squirrels dig at her feetthe hoard of autumn now silentthe revelry of abundanceput away but also strewn about everything suggests the whiff of iceeverythingContinue reading “Earth”
Shadow
my shadow is tallshe can reach all the glasseson the top shelf she fills them to the brimwith strong cocktailsbecause alcohol doesn’tbother her stomach,and neither does anyquantity or combination of food she drives fastand says “f*ck it”more than I do, becausethat field of hers really is barrenand she lords over ita lanky scarecrow inbright redContinue reading “Shadow”
Skin
. . . . so many maps
and destinations
burgeoning, just beneath the skin
After the Front
After midnight the storm’s breathcame fast and fierce betweenthe houses, snuffingtrees and patio furniturelike errant candlesit gripped the stars and stripeslike a sail, unmooringour flagship with a single blowso it drifted into thedepths of the gardenfences folded like ahouse of cards, harkeningto the maelstrom’s beguiling whistle But you would never knowit now – if itContinue reading “After the Front”
Breath
The wind will shift from south to north again
as the earth tilts her way along the year
and my breath will enter the tapestry
as I weave my own way along, in time.
Morning Song
This morning a song is happening. . . .
Scrutiny, 2
ridiculous: the difference
from aquatic birth to
solid earth, so far north
to deepest south
espresso sings: hand to mouth
Scrutiny, 1
Floating in my cup of tea:
the bric-a-brac chunk leftovers
from the small scoop of flavorful dust
I stirred in, along with honey. . . .
The Poetry Patio 