Wednesday, July 25, 2018
Make peace with deadlines or this is how your spirit reacts.
Fear a deadline, the carrots are charred beyond desire.
Fear a deadline, poems sound like frenetic bug-eyed creatures
howling in a wind tunnel. Sashay up to a deadline & see what happens.
Of course, I'm writing this for myself.
Go ahead, make up the story about what this image is or isn't. Get personal or not. Include a pen or a spoon. Or both. Make up something that feeds those you love and those folks yet-to-be met.
Thursday, July 19, 2018
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
And yet, and yet there were ripe (very ripe) peaches on the counter within fingers' reach. And, yes, there was a soft hum of jazz and the occasional hummingbird sipping at the pomegranate yarrow. All this contained in the blue and in the black. Petite poems, too.
Thursday, July 5, 2018
They include a certain amount of resting & a vigilance to see awe in the everyday. Also, to cook with a wooden spoon in the spirit of curiosity. The same is true for stirring a poem.