stained pages

Seasons Turned

wilted tomato
garden plants spent and laden
to bed may you rest

seasons turned toward
a winter’s sleep well deserved
quarts canned of summer

tomato tasty
fresh garden smell mid-winter
the promise of Spring


Love Locks

Ponts des Arts taken

by storm, lover’s forbidden 

expression gone cold.

Parisian love has

flowed to America, locked

love bridges the sea.

Another half-hour

I trick my self into believing

reward my self by thinking

gift my self an extra half-hour sleeping.

The funny thing is

is the snooze button works.

Ahhhhh…eternal rest

until the alarm goes off again.

(It is amazing to myself i was able to screen shot my alarm with my eyes closed. Another amazing feat accomplised unaware, with no clue what i am doing in life. Yep, i am so unprepared to the unpredictability that lies ahead.)


This life
much like the merry-go-round
I am on,
spinning above
the ground
shifting under my feet
as I dance,
shuffling down the street.


The Poet’s House


Translucence following suit
gone are gray doves.
Hope circles in orbit,
sharp green blades lie low.
Soil kneaded, sprouting joy.

Gleeful sands of mischief
lighten oppressed time.
The celestial sphere pulls
laughter from the land.

The Poet’s House


Autumn proverbs
the mountainous covenant descends.
Freedom plies, the toiling earth finds rest.
Surrender soul to the poet’s house.


Leaden footed winter.
Lumbering elephantine.

A pieced poverty of color
the house close-mouthed.
Silvery shards,
a fence frosted, still erect.
Leaden footprints of anticipation,
the tulips and daffodils quilled.




How the world appears 

before my eyes, the circling

drops of dew arise.

I feel nothing but

everything is amplified

hearts I leave behind.

Still life


The juiciness of life
found in the core of being our self.
Origins. The ripening of soul.

Tales of warrior giants

Museum of Indian Arts & Culture

truth be told
exaggeration and
a storyteller’s dream.

Homer’s Odysseus
a Jewish David
hero and villain
adventure unfolds.

stories are true
no matter the garden
Nephilim guards
or Apache warriors.

We who venture
to write, uphold
the essence of
our subjects bold.

Even as the fisher
tells of the big one
that got away,
the tale grows by inches.


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