if we only take and not give back to the world don't we die, lonely?

if you think life is a swamp you should really think about climbing a tree you’ll swim wade and walk through a lot of mud fend of...

they nip my ankles between the toes behind the knees minnows all over my skin while I'm thigh deep cleaning the pond to them I’m a...

His name is Joe, with perfectly parted, if not slightly pasted, jet black hair. Looks in his 50’s. Built like a boxer that’s still ready...

for love or a laugh shouldn’t poetry touch you hug or tickle you?

why not in the mist at dawn on a small blue lake nestled in a forest or the same place at sunset copper and yellow threads wet on its...

when a poet dies we lose two eyes that are built to open more eyes

what to do with all these little hoppity brown beggar-bugs scattered on the pickleball court? of course an additional scourge to...

I could just wait for the tomatoes to turn red seventy or so as hard and unripe as this week’s writings still hanging on a dozen pages...

ravens everywhere talking like the locals do lots of complaining

my cowlick has sprung needs a lick to look my age or I’m five again

as I wait to turn left at one of the slowest left turn arrows I watch a raven pace back and forth along the top of a billboard left wing...

how is the sun different from a mother? her brightness a wakeup call to a world that lingers in darkness unable to shake the night the...

what makes a fluted throat while so many others are raspy and fog-horned? how do you make it vibrate to play like a clarinet or tremble...

late for pickleball and not a space in the lot I bet Joni’s never played I cruise down a street park in front of a glare of aluminum two...

it twists in my stomach like a python fangs licked and folded back a mouth unhinged and widening for the swallow the prey my...

she oozes 6th grade teacher bespectacled patient helmet-haired a balanced thoughtful mind wise from all its years as loving as any...

a dove strolls the canopy up and down branches trunk to leafy ends head bobs in every nook fork and split stem for the eggs growing...

a dragonfly sits on the cross that the crouched hero puts flowers in front of the actor shoes it away it lands he waves again it...

the red ember that slips over the western mountains? that peekaboo buttery blaze clearing the eastern horizon? what about mid-morning’s...