at summer’s end,
as birch trees bend
in the breeze. And butterflies
flutter and tease. My hot breath

on the glass. The smell of
smoky crimson ash. Dew drop
pearls on rose petals. Dancing water in
stove-top kettles. His whispers dangle

in my garden. Like the hammock
hung in the yard in the nook
between the trees. I shook him off
in one tight squeeze.

two green eyes
trace the cornflower sky
jump in
the cotton-candy clouds

red wine lips
to drink
the sun kissed eclipse
a pearl nose

to breathe
the blooms
a garden grows
lilac perfume

the sweet song
of the robin
this day is calling
me in pirouettes

to brush
the blackened silhouettes
and sprinkled showers
of rainbow confetti

this day
has not a crease
honking
like a flight of geese

and tripped on every rung. And fell
into the slats so hard I burst a
lung. I've hit my head on walls that
pushed to close me in. And through  

the midnight calls threw back
a fifth of gin. My knobby knees have
buckled. My soles have all worn
through. And how the men

all chuckled at scars that I
accrue. The stairway twists and
turns. I cannot see around the bend. I have
my concerns that this all has no end. Every day

I struggle to take a step. And all that I juggle
and still with smile and pep! Some days I just
sit back and watch the folks go by. I'd say
this life's a hoax. We're all just gonna die!

in the head,
a dark canal
for wax to build and
shed. A place to hang

a loop or push
a stud. Or rest a strand
of hair around two protruding
organs.  And the dust flies

in and out. Fleshy twists
and folds, a place for buds
with music and string. Some
stick out like ***** of

wings. Covered in hat
or cap. A spot to stick
a cotton swab. Not much more
than a useless ****.

He Left a mark
on fervent breast.
Was just a spark
he combed and pressed.

It lit a path
into the wood.
A row of lath
no backing stood.

A rose
with no trellis.
To pose
with no pelisse.

Footprints ebb
In April snow.
A spider’s web
to snare her woe.

blue ***** dig caves
under sandy rocks
and the smell of salt
boats tied to docks

the gulls swoop low
to catch a bite
and plovers wade
as horseflies bite

footprints make a trail
boys and girls building castles
with shovel and pail
green foamy seas

lined with cockleshells
and balmy breeze
driftwood and seaweed
tangled around my toes

and knees
tanning woman lying
on colored towels
as sunburned baby

in sagging diaper howls
coconut oil
permeates the air
as old folks sit

on navy beach chairs
bags of chips and kegs of beer
and hairy chested men
that often stare

a bunch of teens punch
a volleyball over
a long-stretched net
my nape breaks out

in a sweat
riding surfs on boogie boards
dripping ice-cream cones
sandpipers call this their home

as they lie on nests in the dunes
while radios blare 80's tunes
life's troubles out of reach
a typical day at the beach

as I. Without a parachute
I cannot fly.  And land so hard
I broke apart. My arm a tree
branch limb that couldn't swing

or swim. My leg a rolling
log, without a foot to jump or
jog. This head a bowling
ball. Eyes and tongue just

loll. My chest a hollow
stump that sits there like
a lump. It doesn’t hold a beat,
cold as rain and sleet. The sun

rises and sets. The sky full
of clouds and contrails
from the jets. And the frost lost
its bite, since I fell from the height.