Poems
Frost's Shooting Range
Rode around Frost's farm.
Poems
Little ways to say a lot
Poems
The Firs
I’m not ready for everything to die this year. The wind is consistently strong the past few days. The people who come from all parts of the world To see our leaves change color are leaving. The ground is a sheet of wax paper Under a blood-let easel.
Poems
Beats, Slams, and Yes, I Am(s)
We call it poetry for the ear, But that’s not where we hear it. We call it poetry out loud, But it’s an inside job. We call the meter measured. We call the measure divine. I call the words: All Words! Sweet- Sweet -Tweet-Tweet Twitter-Tatter- Beat-
Poems
Good Neighbor, Frost
If the sky and the horizon bent properly, I could see those paper barked birches. Autumn -swung and knocked- swung and knocked Oak and ash and spruce and pine and even Evergreens Grumbled. Fat chirping squirrels bent trunks down. Elasticity whip snapped shot them back up. I crooked my neck
Poems
Saudade
Being too empty, being too full of love, for something too far away. Rain. Heavy sometime during the night. The puddles are ponds. The energy is low and warm like snow is pregnant. Snow is bound waiting for tomorrow. Rain is right now. Pay attention: The rain demands attention right
Poems
Giant
I am the mountain and the moon.
Poems
Your Metaphorical Heart
This one is brilliant. Dancing genuine dances. Eyes blush, roll beautiful. Nervous with her wonderful. Strong how she survives a solar storm of too little, too many bits of light, the normal world calls magnificent. The world has never been enough for you in being too much. Too much what
Poems
Forever Moon Skies
What each night sky knows Each sunrise lacks.
Ma
The Moon, Indecisive
The shadow shined sunset on the city. The wind slow-whipped and rippled. Can light be a light bed sheet that cools Like a night lit summer night? Can the moon, indecisive, Make the whole world? Yes! Yes! Yes! And yes. Tonight, and sunset held the city Skyscrapers in each
Poems
A Certain Sad
Sad today. That welcomed warm sad. The sad you want to stay. That certain sad missing piece. You’ll never know peace, Without this missing piece. Sad day right day to be with That thing. That: -thing-thing-. The only beautiful: -thing-thing-. Rain day, sane day, window-pane day.
Poems
Binary Poetic
What’s Poetry gonna do about it?
Poems
This Bay Window
It is definite just before death, I will rest my hand, On this necessary neglected bay window. But will I be absolved to keep the memories of: When I held your soft creased palms, honest and adored in mine, When your so close fingers, soft swept open my hard sullen