It was Trapper Keepers
and binders, the smell
of vinyl, paper, and chalk,
how the window sounded
cracked open, because
September can still be
warm. And whenever I
I Do Not Know Which Days I Am Celebrating Read More »
Or perhaps you picture
a black-clad student in
back of class, wilting
on the drug of the day,
carving punked out words
into a silent desktop.
I Am Not That Poet Read More »
Wide eye open, top
of the pyramid scheme,
stairway to some kind
of heaven. Or did you think.
For months, we tried to be rid
of you. You, too thick. Too prickly.
Too wandering amid the many
fingered hedges and greenery.
Much too, much too, invasive.
there is the difference
they know when to hit high notes
nightingales
So Much the Better Read More »
First, though, I must drink decaf coffee,
because why bother with anything else
until that piece has been done? It’s not
My left hand has
done most of the work
for me, built a thick
callous on my middle
finger where rests
Based on a writing prompt from Poetry Super Highway for National Poetry Month, 2024 and this news article:
“The US was getting too expensive. So this artist relocated to France for a slower-paced life”
By Silvia Marchetti, CNN
My Dear Friend, the Artist Read More »
Haiku wishes for greener spaces and a kinder world
Where I Can Safely Be Myself Read More »
wind chimes and songbirds
even the curtains balloon in celebration
today’s open window
There’s a difference
between how
the word is
used—apathy
in the personal
sense, indifference,
or lack of caring,
where you refuse
to act, or do
the right thing,
Or Shall We Call It… Read More »
The stranger next
to me, too close
for comfort, I can
practically feel his
breath on my neck,
or is it the air I
always have to turn
on high? How I hate
to fly, I always seem
to get searched,
and while I
An Ode to My Former Teammates at IBM
Heya, so you know what I did? Took the day off
to think about what was actually happening,
was really going on behind the scenes, behind
the screens and the gaslighting. I mean, I got up
What I Did That Day Read More »
She told me obsequious wasn’t the right word,
wasn’t the way to describe that grainy beach in
loosely translated terms of something yielding
and servile, but here it still is after decades of
On Being Obsequious Read More »
My dearly beloveds, I’d like to tell you
and the magpie how very much you are
needed, how very lovely it is to hear you
You see (I seem to start that way a lot lately, don’t I?) what
it’s really about is the choices we make, even the littlest
ones we CAN make, where we really do have several options,
What It’s All About Read More »
