Rocks ripple my river reflection
as amber and caramel leaves spiral
from sleeping oaks
landing atop water as lily pads
and clothing my mirror image.
I envy the resting trees,
tucked in for the winter.

Georges Seurat paints my vision,
my eyes see through his art,
but that's the nice way of saying
you are closer if I shut my right eye
and farther if I shut my left.

Somedays, I read "O" as "Q",
and occasionally, you aren't you.
You are that person whose face,
hair, and build are similar
to that other person I know.
Your voice will give it away,
unless you walk close
on a cloudless sunny day.

American barcodes
All sit with a grin.

American barcodes
Can’t you see my skin?

American barcodes
I’m wearing my mask.

American barcodes
The police don’t ask.

Woe be to the lady of seasons!
Persephone and Demeter argue.
As neither can forgive dear family,
we are lost! We are sunk! Polar icecaps
melt to the tension of their bickering.

Poseidon’s domain increases ever more!
His power does drive our beaches and shores
higher! Higher! Higher ever more!

From the writer’s chair
Words explode from thought

Rising from the seat
With both feet planted
As roots in the soil

Head soaking up the sun
Like photosynthesis

The lips, the gateway of the mind,
open to form the singing of birds,
the blooming of daffodils,
and the colors of paintings.

My pen slithers in poetic taboo
For as it writhes, you’d think it frail
Sliding along the garden’s morning dew
Polished diamond-shine upon each scale

Writing the lines as though I rhyme in schemes
Reptilian only within my dreams

Apollo’s chariot rests
below the horizon’s layers
yellow, pink, and blue.
Breathing in the sunset,
night’s chill takes the air
with chirping crickets
hooting owls
and starlike fire flies.