don’t spend your money
this sunset muted by clouds
–worth little, worth all
Category: Poems
Poem 20160117
sacked out
at my feet
the dog looks tired
tongue hanging out
where he is missing teeth
on the walk
he seemed lively
and we took a route
we rarely take
so we could hear the frogs
in the creek
whenever the cars weren’t
whooshing past us
and we had
a moment of stillness
he snores
i smell the scent
of wood smoke from chimneys
see the blanket of low clouds
not quite fog
listening again
to the throaty calls
of frogs
Poem 20160116
she wrapped the scarf
around his neck
and then around her own
the red scarf
was long enough
and the weather
cool enough
to warrant such a thing
no need to bundle up
under the full weight
no need to bear it
all on her own
so much better to
share the warmth
to create a short
woolen bridge
between them
as they sat and watched
the sun go down
Poem 20160115
The Friday Haiku
—–
coffee on her breath
sun rising real in her eyes
two morning kisses
Poem 20160114
so silent
i can hear the buzzing
in my ears
a thousand bees
or just the rushing of blood
or a damaged nerve
i hear what there is to hear
in this silence
outside
a bird flies to the feeder
disappointed
by the low seed
Poem 20160113
he had nothing
in his hands to offer
yet she took them anyway
–but my hands are empty
she filled his cupped palms
with cool water
in the dark
they watched
the moon undulate
in his palms
–you have enough
Poem 20160112
i dream of cracking teeth
wake with an aching jaw
sure that my mouth is full
of broken bits of bone
awash in frothy blood
this news is old
and my eyes cloud
milky and cold
the silence loud
Poem 20160111
in crystalline air
frogs croak their croaky love songs
–hope to get lucky
Poem 20160110
in millennia
someone will sift
through my ashes
and find that some part
finally turned into
a diamond
it will glitter
in their gloved hand
under dust clinging
to rough facets
looking in
will they see
me or just their
reflection in me
Poem 20160109
the abandoned heart is beating
it struggles on, but not in spite,
or beating, rather, not to spite
but because it knows nothing else
dreading the silence of the night,
the abandoned heart is beating
to hear itself, steady rhythm
the only comfort it has left
cold darkness too, this loss of words,
a handful of half-told truths–though
the abandoned heart is beating
it will–can not beat forever
these days are soft sun-filled hours
and gray clouds hiding silent stars
that whisper, it is a lie that
the abandoned heart is beating
Words and Feathers 