Luscious Green Grass

Life was drowning her.
Every day was worse…
pulling back from it,
wrapped in invisible covers,
sinking deeper within,
she peered out from this internal recess.
Memories of drawing or painting were there;
she liked to climb trees when a child,
and especially loved the feeling of walking
barefoot in the grass…
she had discarded her artwork, stopped
climbing trees and never went barefoot.
Sighing, she put pencil to paper; graphite
doodles danced into a barefoot child swinging
from a tree limb onto luscious green grass…                                      7/29/2012

Stanley Kunitz said: “It is out of the dailiness of life that one is driven into the deepest recesses of the self.”


Homemade Donuts

Mesmerized by bubbling grease,
she methodically flipped the donuts.
As always, he was no help.
Tuning chatter and guest movement out
assured proper focus on the frying donuts.
As always, he hugged everyone but her.
Donuts were important; she was a great cook.
As always, she was alone in the kitchen…
at least she didn’t have to watch him flirt.



Failure to meet people’s direct looks
turned her into a foot observer.
Her wandering eyes invariable slid
to the ground; it wasn’t a foot
or shoe fetish she took notes about.
Eyes are open to the soul, they say;
soles encased in various covers reveal
so much about personal habits…



Don’t dare dream of….
Can’t last forever,
you know that.
Temporary conditions…
pain is just a visitor.
Re-birth from remorse;
move on from guilt,
celebrate between trauma…
dare to initiate dreams.



Where was inspiration?
Not wanting to be called a copycat
by taking off an ear – too Van Gogh-ish…
she thought about slicing off a finger.
That was just too ridiculous to contemplate;
plus she knew she was imperfect but not insane.

Perfection carried a burden as great as failure.
Maybe it was one in the same – balancing each other.
Passing on chopping a digit, she gathered leashes;
tugging her into the night, the dog’s exuberance
was contagious as the star strewn midnight…


Sun Swelter

Reaching zenith
Wilting everything
Asphalt grows sticky
Unusual heat wave
Her excess dripped
Salt stung eyes
Fan blew hot air
Mistaken relief
Too hot to move
She sat still
Dripping precious water
A sponge discharging
Stifling drift into asleep
Distorted dreams
Floating above obesity
Light and free…
She woke up dead.


Perseid Shower

Hope is on its way…
I read an online article:
Perseid meteor shower peaks
during the night of Saturday, Aug. 11
I need to cast some serious wishes.
Every August I wait under midnight sky
knowing that gazillion meteors will
soon whizz through space.
It’s a chance to adjudicate my wish list.
Pinning each wish to the streaming tail
requires patience and vigilance.
Caffeine isn’t needed to stay up to catch the show;
I’m used to roaming the streets late at night;
the Corgis look to my features with each wish
spoken; luckily they always remain mum…



The seeds of your storm gave strangers something
to talk to each other about
for up to and possibly more
than 10 minutes straight.
Perfect breeze,
smell of saltwater in the air,
your ranting display
inches from my face.
So beautiful out here…
evening’s brisk ocean breath
a counterpoint to your escalation;
people seemed nervous to even approach.
Waiting frozen in place, they didn’t want
to feel obligated to do something but I passed.
Thankful for not making my biggest mistake,
I passed not letting you stay in my life far
longer than you deserved.



Cloudless Skies

Woke up to gray clouds…
sighing with relief,
I’m morphing – becoming
a true Pacific Northeasterner.
I welcome gray gloom as the norm;
the bright sun against clear blue
cloudless skies is nerve-wracking…                                   8/8/2012


Roused from sleep,
left passionate dreams
on the pillow’s cover
along with some drool.
Dawn’s sky expressions
mirror wet sand footprints
following crescent beach.
Natural museum of art
accompanied with gull calls,
dancing sandpipers, incoming
water’s sweeping reflections
over any impression’s trace.

Tasting the salt on slack lips
reminiscent of love’s kiss…


Blackberry Bramble

Barbed Wire 
Brambles strong as barbed wire
wrapped around her still form
inflicting their sharp hooked blades;
although miniature in size, the flesh
was no match to prevent deep rents.
Blood blended with thick red canes;
indiscernible red, the color of danger,
slid down to the shaded ground.
Scent of decay – flies gathered –
mulched leaf dampness mixed with fetid
stench of body sinking into welcoming earth.
The driver claimed the damage was from a deer…


was out picking blackberries with my grandson on the 12th. This snippet wandered in a different direction than my first thought…  I have almost gotten hit by cars on this section of our quiet street [day or night]. Guess they figure no one will be checking for speed on this small street so they take the corner too fast and then really zoom. tons of blackberry brambles line one side of the street.

Long Nights

Now that summer finally arrived,
the day light ends way to early.
Twilight at eight pm, I want to protest.
OK, I really dislike the heat but the light…
I need the light; a minute a day vanishes.
My bones feel it even though I prefer the night;
my heart and physique feel the loss.
I prefer a short night because long nights
without a partner are really too long.



The blank page

Every day blinding white paper
glows by sun or lamp illumination.

Maybe a scribble would do to change
its formidable appearance
or a lazy day line scrolling willfully
without lifting pen from surface.
Maybe her thoughts were worn out;
lines squiggle and rotate without
forming a word let alone a sentence.
A sedentary response to goal set years ago…

8/15/2012 this is making line break where I didn’t intend…


Near misses

She could count them – near misses;
luckily on one hand but that was to be
expected without proper information.
She had known nothing about procreation.
The topic was never mentioned even in
junior high health class; that taboo subject…

she wondered if her other cousins
had been given more information.
Probably not considering Nancy got
herself in that condition…the aunts
could see it in Nancy’s eyes – see what?

Another cousin ran away to live with someone…
so looking back – she was a quiet needy
and naïve child; sometimes ignored because
her brother was out of control, she floundered.

She was attracted to losers… well, that was what
was available and fit her familial patterning.
Guilty of wanting to feel loved…
naiveté is what saved her because
she didn’t know what they were talking
about; they disappeared and she cried…