as a cottontail
loud as a nightingale
flappy as a flock of geese
black and slick as burnt duck grease

I’m sweet
as maple pie
soft as a wedge of Brie
thick as chocolate pudding
I spread my lips –
and put my foot in

The moony wood & pine
sigh & bow to create our path,
evenly blank & in love.
Thoughtless as they must be
yet how must they love us
to open their frosty springs,
their fragile, newborn life,
mourning all the while the trodden
leaves & critters of late,
clasped to their muddy bodies.
Last year, the years before,
all crushed & forgotten.

Always they allow us back in,
as if to welcome us home.
We are invited back
to our fragrant roots,
their floral roots,
in love.

Heaven waits above
But not the way you know
A gilded shimmering city
To which none here may go
Real and present
Yet before our blinded eyes
One may never know it
By observing empty skies
For the city is that kingdom
The kingdom within you
Neither here nor there
But ever-present
Waiting to be discovered
Within your own heart

Should you but seek its path

I was awakened through out the night
It wasn't anxiety
It wasn't nausea
It was waves of horror

The pandemic
The fires and the apocalyptic skies
The hurricanes
One after another
The Donald Trumps for which
There is no medication
For the cultures that go psychotic.

Sleep waves of horror
Wake up.

These are the kinder airs,
muttering of lilac & drapes
of muted green, swept
into the stream below,
dancing as if in secret.
To the few hundred famed
impressions of the past,
opaque oils that never
dreamt of dimming browns,
your muses are left untouched
by these hundred years,
still pleading
"come find me,
I am here all the same."

summers in the air
(and all my bad intentions too)
i skipped playing 21 questions
'cause i had so much to hide.
still not sure how to cover the scars.
quite evidently, everyone wants to believe
everything but the truth