she noticed her hands

She noticed her hands resting palms side down, buttoned at her hips (for hundreds of years), but as she was filled with generosity of touch, of word, of beauty she instinctively turned them palms side up, first one hand then the other, as if they were cups that could contain the whole dazzling world from violet door, to beryl door, to flamingo door, to yellow sun, to turquoise door, to salmon entrance, to cotton gauze, to the absolute ageless art of the alfresco open air door, —  she was moving through all the sensations and sails of life, which in this case left her hands feeling marvelously warm even at the concrete hour of 2 a.m. while she continued to compose air, and then climb it.

for Real Toads


she circles

in softness
in un-

expected math

she’s a break from

(carnation of stars)

is she hair, is she air,
is she eddies in the

you think about daffodils
you think about light
you want to brush

her arm
in extended fluidity

reach for a pulse
tucked under her knee
now hug-held
closer to her chest


playing sort of another Moon card
as imagined in Starry Night for RT

you’re my favorite page,


i want you to know that
in and out of rain
i would have dog-eared
your form forever,
but i can’t bring myself
to put a crease
in your timeless beauty
treachery, i promise, will never
touch your needles of grandeur

24: NaPoWriMo and Real Toads

i can never

seem to do you justice
by writing b-e-a-u-t-y
or taking a picture
with this old camera
— one eye always open


18: for d’Verse


of sweat
ooze from every
single country
on her face
she is raw,
she is unkempt
she is beyond
becoming complete
un-doing traditional
bounds of beauty
as it may,
(Romeo) Juliet
but more than this
warpy reservoir
there’s the smell
of seaweed, the
color of speech
the accuracy of
diamonds, –
only now
you think you
have felt
cold in your
hot hands


for Real Toads

On a small digital camera

that means something, –
I wake up at 50 in a
cryptic body costume
squeezing my soul.
I haven’t done a damned thing
in 20 years.
your wild imaginings, –
we all want the beauty
when the music
doesn’t like us anymore.
-so now you understand
the shoeless, the smokers,
the instantly smitten.
Predators and prey we catch
in one day, – on a small
digital camera.

[an old prompt from Izy at Real Toads
Watch this Leos Carax clip from ➡️Holy Motors]

It’s Alright


We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.” -Ernest Hemingway

Fixed, in the

… corner of my mind

the secrets of her mouth
grin with flowers
and i can’t stop
my urges, because
i am pale
&her smile’s
instantaneously fuchsia,
laughing like the raging
sun, coming-on-too-strong

her exalted rosebud
lips entice
… mad, mad desire

{for dVerse}

Opening Doors

Again, a giant new door. Wrong key.
I come back with the (same) right key and fumble.
Someone I don’t know, but younger, offers
to unlock the door, and does. I will come back;
disturb the door, jiggle the key
more profound, but with softer meaning.
Time and again, I face the door.
Someone hears me swell this time
“Be patient, I have to remember
it can be very tricky.” Old doors and new keys.
New doors and old keys. Wisdom opens wide
for me &I walk slimly through.

for dVerse


 Things no one understands:

the blue tip of a flame, a foreign language

embroidered on a tongue, a vortex, a belly button,

an unborn babe sucking its thumb, a beauty

too complex. Same with words

that come to mind,

those winking



Inspired by the first Gargleblaster Writing Challenge [42 words] at YeahWrite: What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing?