tilt

when I was a child
I did not notice the slant
of the sidewalks.

swift fishes

swift fishes gleaming
by lamplight underwater
do not pull the plug

Let's go to the Ex!

three propeller planes
purring and low on their way
over the city

casual beverage

treetop birds chatter
then, one mind, take to the sky
to stir the evening air

Hey!

I felt Happy
in your arms.
I felt at Home
with you.
What the Hell Happened?!?!?

restful sleep

to close eyes trusting
the night will bring restful sleep

settle in

to feel so at home
with a reading light beside
an overstuffed armchair

amazing each and every time

warbling in a tree.
flash of red! a cardinal
sings in my backyard.

horror

how did this happen?!!
wrinkles! stifness! aches and pains!
while I was not looking.

gravity is warp in space/ time continuum

last night, late night anxiety over no word from teenager
oh my daughter!
communicate communicate communicate communicate!!!!

humility

the universe moves in slow motion
we are less than fruit flies

reverence

sitting becalmed
trees that will take root anywhere
fill the yard with shade

out all night

it's a sleepover
a tangle of teenage limbs
a pile of toddlers

road trip

long shadows tell us
we are insignificant
passing the semi

Patience

She boards the bus today, feeling friendly, wearing her best wool coat - navy blue with a hood.
She has her tea in a good solid mug, bag in.
She steps on seeking a companion. Among the limited selection of empty seats, she chooses one beside the woman most likely of Jamaican descent - even if she is not wearing a hat this fine Sunday.
She sits as the bus jerks ahead. Tea sloshes in her uncovered mug. She brushes some drops from the lap of her coat, "Oh dear, this is my only coat."
She speaks in a clear friendly tone.
Her chosen traveling companion understands this need to talk out loud, so listens.
The bus crawls in traffic.

pace

the morning light dawns.
pick up my sorry carcass,
start another day.

Decapitation

I don't have a mop
I do have a useless stick
The floors stay dirty

bliss

my sheets were dried on the clothesline
tonight I sleep in the sunshine

poem from a failed dream

they say you'll die if you die in your dreams
how can we know this?


rolled up pill bug small
eyes open to white blindness.
asleep. and dying?

good morning!

anger has taken
up permanent residence
in my lower back

missed something

I keep bumping up
against the feeling I am
just now waking up

crop circle

what did I know then
supine in the tall grasses
sun. wind. skin. being.

rainbow

the colour of giving up
is not the colour of failure

next

at the very end
of a life of starts it's all
finished busy-ness

dinner anyone?

there's no evidence
of my butchery of fish
folded into crust