Tuesday, September 27, 2016


April is a reckoning,
a beckoning
of robins -
one to build,
one to sing,
both fat from seed I've spilled.

Kissing bees,
the lilacs list,
lips slick and plump with pollen.

Bees buzz with the promise
of honey
and of sting.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Tuesday, September 20, 2016


More sketch than sonnet,
her spun sugar hands
faint with freesia
and the latest need met.
She is my soft path
past all regret.
She is the high road
I've never taken.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, September 18, 2016

I Was There

I was there - could she hear
my feeble comforts in her ear
or does nothing
carry clear into that wait?

All my tears
and snot and sobs
in the breach -
couldn't stop
the stilling spirit
come to rob,
come to take.

So I bargain with the beast -
come and gather,
go in peace.
But after all of this
at least
give me a sign

that she goes to a better place
into gentle arms of grace.
But all I get -
an open grave.
Faith is not kind.

For Karin's prompt at Real Toads.  Also submitted to Poetry Pantry.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Old Mother

Old Mother Old Mother in her small, country home,
her days as coquette long journalled and gone,
lit her last lamp at midnight, then pulled from the sea
a woman of knowing robbed, cruel, from a dream.

Her hands were pure pages from the book of the heart,
tattooed with sonnets, the foundation of art.
The skull of a mouse and the skull of a man
rode on each shoulder and spoke in slow stanzas

rich with the romance of suicide seas
to gentle Old Mother down to her knees
to bare breast and bone to the touch of the tide -
then fully alive, she died.

For Susie's prompt at Real Toads

Tuesday, September 13, 2016


Woman swallows a star
and calls it hope.
The smoke and burn,
she names desire
and likens labor's pain to love.
Birth, she christens fire.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Note:  I have three poems in the September issue  of Ygdrasil (click over, scroll down to September 2016; it's a free PDF download).  If you have a minute, check it out!

Sunday, September 11, 2016

This Skin

This skin is too thin
and a size too small;
I'd like to make a return
and exchange it
for something a little more "in"
and less likely to wrinkle and burn.

I'll need something fair
that goes with my hair
and take off a decade or two.

This tacky old skin
has never been
a good fit; I want something new.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United