Right, obtuse and acute
to the left and obtuse
to the right and staunch
as republicans Continue reading
Back in graffiti city
where trash drifts against the fences
instead of snow, where the tone
is a gruff wall
as if the skin were concrete
and the bones
were rebar wired together
by a twist of spite. Continue reading
The Food Chain
Whitetails in the night
munch tomatoes, spinach
and corn, devour them all
with cilantro and sugar
peas, grind them
to a pulp with yellow
teeth and belch
beneath brisk starlight. Continue reading
We traveled that year
to raft the Laughing Whitefish. Continue reading
If I were a redwood,
I’d stand on a mountain shrouded in fog.
I’d be the tallest and grandest of all.
Eagles would come
to perch on my arms, crows would caw
in vigilance. Wings would fold
to nurture their young,
safe from the edge of tines and tongues.
If I were a redwood, I’d converse with the moon
and kiss the stars. I’d sway
in the wind and begin each day
with a dawn painted purple and red. I’d be humbled
by God and the miracle of song
composed and sung by wrens. I’d bend
to the rhythm of tumultuous storms and move
with the stealth of paws. If I were a redwood,
I’d huddle in the rain and cling to the cliffs
of granite and schist that hold me. I’d be sentinel
to preciousness, beauty, and peace. I’d live
far beyond the logger’s reach of saws…
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Ozone Continue reading
Heavily scented warm
summer air draws in
buzzing bees eagerly
seeking precious nectar.
Sweet peas swarm up
netting on the old shed wall
a perfumed rainbow
tapestry of many hues.
Pale pastels to bright
reds, purples, pinks,
blues and lilacs paint a
masterpiece on old timbers.
Rich pickings for the
school children’s flower show.
If I were a window,
I’d be invisible to wings.
Flies would buzz
and head-bang bees. Wasps
would sting. Gnats
I’d knock unconscious. I’d be clearly
clean of guilt. If I were a window, Continue reading