A lost coyote, she howls
And scowls ripping branches
A witches tantrum
Making tall pines
Stir in their pots
As powerful as naught
Nautical miles
A sail in the air
A mystical mare
The mountains stand peaceful in the distance
A ridge of resistance
Against her insistence blows
But the energy in me grows
I need this though
I commune with thee
I appreciate the need
To scream and sing
To let your voices ring
Through the mountain air
To shout to others beware
The wind witches that swishes
For river coffee are here
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 1:00 PM UTC
The lines of the wild
A panoramic smile
Hustling, bustling, trestle-ing
Goes stiiiiiiiiiill
Nana, I smell you
In the wool of my new sweater
That matches the pine trees
And the warmth you provided
You’re indignant it’s your style
Like a character from a novel
Maybe you taught me
To be a duck, to not give a -
What? How did you predict
With such an accurate hit
That he would be my him
You called it, left me crying
In the hotel rooms hallway
Where you later would be praying
And praying and praying
For my lost sister, but she was only playing
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 4:25 PM UTC
Orange Autumn mood
and a olive-hued hand
pulls me away reluctantly
to see the moon
it’s aglow
a pumpkin in the sky
reminds me of a cartoon character
waiting in a field at night
but now those fields are on fire
and my feelings are alight
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
Looking out over hazy London rooftops
that remind me of flying nannies
with bright lipstick and stern shoes
giving solace in the land where
my amicable ancestors stalk
abroad, yet, you . . .
Those relentless church bells
chiming interruptions
into our little red phone booth
conversation, a separation,
a sign for me to stop talking
as loud as they were
I didn’t know how to listen then
For five years our locket necklace
would be left undone
an antique globe in faded taupe and turquoise
spin it to the right
another part of the world, a ten hour flight
but half a decades time, then double dimes
Another rooftop view
a sage colored loft with angled ceilings
and ocean-scented air
California the land of the fair
with honey-covered hills of hay out window squares
and you and me there
our hair mixed together on the pillow
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 12:11 PM UTC