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Glimpse
the soft lick of breeze on sun slapped cheek like the touch of down upon cold bared skin Or like slivered sun barely breaking dark though closed blinds with chance of change or the fast fleeting flash...
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dishes
a glade of used water glasses surround Burrito bit blanketed dinner plates dirty from last night last minute TV time feeding flanked by a large blue bowl – one of set — redolent of her meal —...
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On Writing Drafts of Poetry
A few words caught in the gossamer net of thought On constant replay, “The winnowing whistle of the wind” or “Light licks it’s way up the wall” tickle like a feather poking through a down comforter,...
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Log Jam
Days flow down and away river jammed packed with logs groaning together on the raging waters from head of the flume to the gated and closed bottom groaning under pent up pressure as if influenced by...
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Noise
Let sounds drip from finger tips onto guitar sting or keys on a board a slow soft arpeggio or pounding drums it doesn’t matter what just create some noise.
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Population — On Oregon Stand Off
320 million lonely sparks of light shine for each other and sometimes by themselves, without an audience All moving, mostly circumscribed though some go astray, some falter some spin off, colliding...
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A few words caught in the white of the screen a trailing thought “The winnowing whistle of the winter of the wind” or “Light licks it’s way up the wall, spilled liquid” phrases that tickle or itch like...
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