Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Difficult to erase

what was never there
only dreamt
but a few times
& always before
midnight
mercy me,
how does a cook
plate absence?
what will
the poet
whip up?

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

from light & dark #7 the dream erases itself

but the pillow remains, witness.  Like a spoon after all the soup has been ladled.  Like a poem whittled to 9 words.  The everyday brims with minimalist epics.  

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Summer bonnets



and peach ice cream.  Always in this season shady poems were in demand.

from blue & black series #10: not your usual Summer


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

Holidays are like any other day


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.