Coriander mixed alone,
a yellow-footed woman
smiles with raindrops.

He sits alone
lost his smile.

No face today
he's disfigured.

A violet petal sparkles,
sun glints from the sky.

Gathered together with friends.  We welcome the warmth. The bread is broken, the soup is pure.  Tonight we celebrate. Outside no more.

You take aim
and paint.

Lost in the moon,
I hide my intent.

A gesture in time I still hold alone.  Dignity is a vision refocused.  Look at this.  Just one small detail on a cufflink.  This lamp shines a light.  Illumination is a walk in wonder.  Upon the sidewalk they rest.  Invisible for the most part, and then her dream began.

Blue is the lagoon
within your eyes.

Outside the trashcan falls to the ground.  Can you hear the crash?  It's a cymbal sounding.  Love is the duster which polishes your soul.

Yellow is the wave,
old scissors cut - in
art circles return.

Gemstones glitter in the barroom brawl, your chocolate-drop eyes entice.

As the emerald glass spins, as the madness of the hatter blooms, this moment captures hearts.

Youth returns. The day is young. The dance floor turns.  Jitters bug.

Glimmering alone... The moonlight offers a tinted gift for two.

Like a snail the journey is slow.
Two sticks maintain the balance.
Walking on water, floating clouds.

Magazine Bulletin:
reclaiming space
within my mind.

Down with dogtown,
carving the concrete
and riding the rails.

The candle flickers, ink flows, the page is filled.  Shadows dance, ideas emerge, her voice is clear.  Fragments arrive, a puzzled piece, at last we shine.

Drips bounce, the puddle becomes a mirror, my eyes reflect on bygone days.  Tears form as icicles melt.  The snow is my canvas.  To scribe my name without a care, to know the identity of a future love.  Upon the white a red heart beats... my love calls me forth - "adventure dear boy for all your worth" - an ice-rink beckons me .... New York, New York, oh the big apple bites!

I am a mighty oak
hiding in an acorn.

Many words swirl
inside.

In motion this poet
seeks devotion.

As the winds blow
my poetry grows.

Tomorrow I dream,
slowly becoming...

New spurts shoot
forth

reaching toward the
sunlight.

Each day I rise like
the truth,

I am the poem!

Monday morning
haunts my heart.

Your words linger
like stale air

Lost in translation
we're torn apart.

The rain falls on the sidewalk. Splashing in puddles.  A face emerges.  Welcome to a new town.

Overgrown lawn
rusted and green:
Machinery down.

Blue eyes twinkle,
Yellow sun shines,  
Indigo rises.

Am I one of these?

Sat in a workshop,
living within images.

Getting dizzy inside of
this spiritual life.

Heart beats, fears arise
Fixed in fragments, her
lips revive...

Upon the table:
a green crunch.

Your eyes make
ice-cream melt.

Her name
upon the
window.

Painted in
purple to
say,

Like your
favorite
flower,

I am here
for you
today.

A blue-jay sings as
her rocking chair
creaks.

Three moments in a freeze-frame.  The dark sky pauses.  Light falls as the swirl of the ocean stirs your heart.  Tomorrow we long for.  Some say a time of replenishment, a time to return.  But here we sit, rocking away the blues, listening as the wild bird sings.  What can we hear when we are no longer there?

Six red petals
plucked from
the edge of
darkness.

When the son follows in the footsteps of mother nature. Another moment of emptiness to savour.  She plants her seeds, wondering not where they will grow.  Her stories ride upon the breeze.  Green is the medicine she shares.  A bright eyed child removes the fear, the shadows exposed, deeper than before, a simple shade divides.

Lime green, her soothing
words, repairing broken
hearts once more.

Yellow is a
six-pence
gleaming.

Gypsy-woman,
a silver-tongue
in my past lies.

A single marble rolls.

Sure no more, indeed these days are long.  At risk with the asterik, my smile sinks.  The bulb buzzes beside my bedside, a dim light I see. Playing cards are strewn across my sheets, a black bic pen awaits accord. As the words rest, the mind sleeps, dark is the night.

No face but my own,
a mirror still reflects.

In the iris of the night
we search.

Light beckons us forth.

Deeply held, secrets we
find...

stars sparkle into view.

Yellow sun
for you my
eyes burn.

My finger paints
a clear reflection.

Yellow blossom, snows fall.
Startled eyes, a rabbit runs.

Underneath the red
moon, a fire still burns.

Old words recycled, as time transforms, the leaves fall, a broken mirror, reflections of nature, my blue eyes review.  Foxgloves fail to fit.  Outside of time, rolling flower into loaves, a yellow glint, the mirrored tint her sunglasses hide, water is gulped, the pupils follow teachers, a *** of ink and chalk on a board, these days are longer than before.

The land of sand beckons, a single rose appears, pointing toward the sky, red touching blue, small rays of light, sun-bleached time.