i know how
to float on the grass.
wanna try?


real simple like for RT




you &i both know i wore the delicate gold link necklace
of emerald bright green lakes for as long as i could
&didn’t i say i would love our fragile ecosystem to death?
&did i not suffer daily sunsets? overlook watershed moments
to wonder, “how come our clasp is accidentally estranged in my hand?”
&couldn’t we un-break the dark corners at the continental divide, you say,

but i note a diminished tenderness, in that

aspen leaf floating
from nymph lake to dreaming lake
— empty is the bowl


for Real Toads

the winky eye

you; +me
accidents in love
have the stars aligned?

sorting through
what shines brightest
thus; willed by will

23: NaPoWriMo

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

on the side

i’m a maker and it’s wonderful
(in short) setting words on a string
as a passionate something


a twiglet

All cheshire cats in the world feel the wind on their wire-slicked whiskers,

don’t let ’em tell you any different…

‘cept you ought to know they drink starlight

through their coats, and prowl the night

under a rare & remarkable guiltless moon.


a ‘lil ditty for RT
(somebody stop me)


stars know
my secret note
i asked the moon
to float you
~ did you get it?
please respond


micropoetry for RT

This is my heart then

Alone without a red balloon

Unable to lift itself
Without the help of helium

There is this fledgling bird

Or tassels on a spellbound string
I stretch across my window

A readied room


playing it again for Kerry
eternally inspired by Mac ❤🎈

A Delicate Autumn Film

This is no good, –
A poem in calm weather
Begins with gossamer.
I hate to see it.
Flimsy, – flying on handfuls of purpose.
On purpose! We all know where this is going,
But what good does it do?
I fall off the page, –
No wings, – no thread!

for Real Toads

Get golden…

Mom used to say,
When women get older
they’ll want a little sparkle.

Now my skin grows thin.
Now I’m turning gray
in my bed.

Nobody ever
really bargains for this,

Everyone’s eye goes
to what sparkles.
Buy jewelry she says

because skin is shallow,
and everything about
box-spring beds
scream slow death.

55 sober words for Real Toads
and submitted to Poetic Asides