writers life – The Poetry Patio

Skin

. . . . so many maps
and destinations
burgeoning, just beneath the skin

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. . . .

I Am

. . . . realize that I am late. I am going to need more time, at least a week. After that, I will be back and set it all right.”. . . .

Getting back in the saddle

Let’s talk inspiration: as in I am in serious need of some. Over the summer I drew back into my shell like a hermit crab and kept to myself. . . . .