Saturday, April 17, 2021

Peace postcards 2021

What if the world could wage peace how do we emphasize empathy impeach 
Such fine democracy 
84,000 Stupas

I want to peace to be like a juicy kiss
I am claiming you
It’s coming together where
Peace is every step
17 miles to Tonasket
There is no map for this
The desert is so bare
Capetown is running out of water
It is but one seed

Nature seduces many to 
Discourse hovers all around us
The echoes of our choices
The worst thing about dyslexia

Peace surrounds you now
The wind blew through
Some shards of Seaglass
Walls of glass cantilever
What lies behind us and what
The still small voice within
Joy finds its way into

Poetry and CoVid

Thanks you to Poetry and Covid

A Project funded by the UK Arts and Humanities Research Council, University of Plymouth, and Nottingham Trent University. 

for sharing my poem Home Planet

Wednesday, February 10, 2021

She is my dream

I knew when she too had Poe
upon the shelf likely to bow
pristine binding worth a crow

Raven and TellTale Heart beat 
Lenore’s collection complete

so the flutter dance began
on her thigh I placed my hand

All that we can see or seem
Is but dream within a dream.

*inspired by A Dream Within a Dream

Thursday, January 7, 2021

Oval Office Insurgency

January 6, 2020 

The storming of the capitol was like my gynecology appointment. An early arrival, asking of the same questions. (I don’t know how my parents medical history could change since they’re dead.) 

A pile of crumpled clothes on a cold metal chair. Panties tucked in a pocket, the object of the gravy seals desire left unaccompanied as I dart across the hall to the bathroom. 

Then, as I lay on the exam table in a hospital gown with a drape on my lap, men and women smashed glass. It was like a speculum prying open my vaginal walls to be inspected. 

An uprising, expected but not welcomed, brought light to indignity.  Our Capitol allowed this invasion in order to prove it is still fit and will last through petty piety and rifling of drawers. 

Saturday, December 26, 2020


through fingers 
life’s vestiges
rubbed away 

Monday, November 2, 2020


Coffee should be rich and black 
cars and homes quite clean 
seams should be finger pressed 
pillows should be fluffed just so 
steaks pink and lean
yellow crested birds like poems
without rhythm or rhyme
exist to preen
and children unheard if seen 
may seem rather mean 
but these are things I know are right 
for a snob that I have been