As I open my eyes the morning scurries about
gaining purchase in all of my senses
from the blatant light spilling through the window,
and the chill clinging to the edges of the night before

And I’ve already been thinking a lot
about holes, the empirical shape of loss,
and how they relate to grief

In the realm of my sorrow these shapes
aren’t ruled by the laws of physics.
Sometimes the holes visit me as colors,
often red and angry at the thievery

Thunder before rain
A rainbow offers a truce
from the raging storm

The marriage of Oeagrus

sandal dust rose
in the overcast affliction
of midday
I was reaching for rain
when
horizon born Calliope
touching clouds like a spear
appeared
her lustrous beauty
in an instance of blinding fire
ate my nakedness

approaching
but then again
a vision of the wind in flux

Oh, save me

the lamb of subjection covered me
the smell of ancient dust
and steel mixed with blood
I begged her eyes
my life force gushed

We arrived at five a.m.
thinking this was early enough
for great seats close to the stage - wrong!
The tents and campsites had been there for days

A tower of empty bottles over our heads, whisky, vodka, tequila,
and all the other varieties you could possibly imagine – no bottles allowed
Having delivered their liquid feelings of euphoria
they were piled high at the entrances;
a free-form sculpture of color and glass!

I can’t touch the curve of a rainbow
or use its’ colors to paint
or count the rain until it stops

Don’t be silly

But my heart is a foolish thing sometimes
and it thinks: “All you have to do is try.
The first thing you must do is reach.”

I felt the tender hues of your curves
as I tossed my umbrella aside,
counting all the rain I could, without fear

With wet reflections all around us
awash in swirling, bouncing colors
we began painting from this palette
so many stories without end

There were diamonds on the water
and she wanted them

But these were not here
to rest in her hands

They travel with the sun
and the insistent tide

Riches she could not hold
would have to be visited again
near the shore, on the morrow

Silky wings,
Flutter in the breeze,
Landing,
On every,
Flowers and trees.

As a,
Hummingbird on the wing,
Taking,
Nature's sweet candy,
In spring.

Coloured wings,
Fly in the wind,
Like angelic angels,
That came,
To sing.

Wings shimmers,
In the light,
Causing wonder,
And delight,
Nature’s butterflies in flight.

In spring,
Summer and fall,
Nature’s fashion models,
Down the runway,
Comes to call.

the folks from Nantucket are glum
because limericks make them look dumb
their confusion makes sense
'cuz the truth is- they're dense
let's dispense with the pestering thrum

“Your coffee is ready”, she says
in her soft morning voice
The smell is subtle in our house,
its promise bringing us together
with purpose in our tiny kitchen

We shuffle between each other, reaching for some sugar,
a spoon and some well-worn cups. Food for the dogs too,
tails wagging so furiously, causing their bodies
to careen from side to side,
barely able to contain so much anticipation

We put their food down quickly;
first things first when you have dogs, of course

a man thought he'd find some repose
boarding crows in his very large nose
but he's mad when they litter
for they don't have a shitter
he's bitter they shit on his toes
yes, his shoes are a mess
you could certainly guess
he’s depressed more or less and it shows
so it’s cleaned with a scraper
and wadded up paper
it's a caper of state that he knows
the offending affair
only lends to despair
people stare everywhere that he goes
he complains to the birds