They were verdant                                

with unapologetic life

a gabble of petals

tossing in an exuberance

of being, a whirlwind of growing

-of grass stains and skinned knees,

ironed dresses and morning messes

fireflies and mudpies-

Endlessly clamorously vining, trailing, flourishing and burgeoning 

Until they went silent,

leaving behind 


    -empty rooms fragrant

     with once mowed grass and overgrown memories. 

     a tangled treasure of lives and limbs

     forever vining and intertwining-


Urban Perambulation

sidewalks stretch between Teslas and fir trees 

where paved-over roots expand and erupt, 

rippling moss-stippled cement into 

uneven hills and valleys

tiny earthquakes carve gnomish mountains 

out of pocked pavement

they wild the cityscape                                                   

where wee fissures appear,

slender as elf ears,

beneath stumbling feet

and unset the concrete mind

along crayoned faultlines   

to release rivulets, spritely streams, of spring-fed dreams 


You belong to memory like

tongues belong to peaches-

-rosy skin of ripened sun

distilling laughter

through baubles of juice

that drip to glaze your fingers

-saplings still-

refracting your ripening light

into glittering fragments cold and blinding diamonds. 

Finding Sanctuary in the British Standard Colour Chart

I hoard color names

-thimblefuls in sheen of Goblin green and Candyfloss, 

basketsful -Zephyr pale and straining,

Goosewing tins, teeming,

and thickets of sticky Cobweb sacks-

each bottomless as a she-dragon’s greed

to jewel my soul’s cradle.

they form necklace cliffs and 

bracelet streams 

of shimmer 

to please my Eddystone eye

and soften the gloom of sky

marbling my Tundra mood with ribbons of Daybreak.

In the Gloaming

Life and death kiss each other

a fibrous intimacy

stitched in our marrow

a bass vibrato serenading

the flora and fauna

of us.

So we love fiercely


scattering our scent recklessly 

fireflies  lighting the path to one another.


 Lost between daylight and doom

I wander the crow-cleaved skies

their ink winging

rifts along my sightlines 

from inhale to exhale

I map the contours of their cacophony,

follow the blade of each wing

that splices the air 

a depthless shimmer

teasing my eye

a featherlike glimmer

of the breadth between prey and prayer

Solo Flight

Aloft, alone

with engine roar measuring my pulse, 

syncopating the whistle of wind to my breath.

Wide sky aerates my eye                                

and my worries are mapped below -         

a calligraphy of river wend                                    

glittering through the propeller’s arc

I pilot this curve of shadow and dapple

Between valleys and creases of

checkpoints plotted, 

parentheses inking rivers and roads.

I trace distances, plot minutes between before and after -

my prop parting the approaching clouds, 

my rudder dragging the dust of runways long gone

and I breathe, pendulous, light-headed, beneath canvas wings 

my compass swinging fore and aft, unsteady, uncertain.

Alone, held aloft by simple faith.