¡uʍop ǝpᴉsdn s,ʇᴉ ʍoN
punoɹƃ ǝɥʇ ssoɹɔɐ pǝlloɹ ʇᴉ ʇɐɥ┴
punoɹ os s,nʞᴉɐɥ ʎW


      nʞᴉɐɥ    
  nʞᴉɐɥnʞᴉɐɥ
nʞᴉɐɥ   nʞᴉɐɥ
  nʞᴉɐɥnʞᴉɐɥ
      nʞᴉɐɥ .....................

Do I have to write a poem today?
And attempt forced creativity?
Or is it just another way,
To achieve some authenticity?
Art is art is art is art.
And yet,
People judge based on their own perceptions.
Expression is still truth, don’t forget,
And critiques help us make corrections.

I invited the band, to make strawberry jam
On top of Strawberry Rock
They asked me "What time?"
I said "Be there by nine."
They arrived promptly at one o'clock
But once they began, the sea kissed the sand
And the music never stopped.

A place of peace,
of birdsong and freedom
A bubbling brook, soft with moss
the stream runs a steady pace
bringing me quiet

We have been here
so many times before
in the name of sanity
and more
please let’s not choose to go
here
anymore

Tattered edge.

Hacked leylandii flicker
needle-teeth and sequins.

When foxes cry
I dream - my rag doll baby.

When foxes cry, I hold her tight -
pinch together seams.

Try to feed her. Bleed instead. Flood
her small, sharp mouth with red -

then watch the blood soak in.

When foxes cry, she screams.

When foxes cry
I dream - my rag doll baby.

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Wait
Check
Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat