Archive for May, 2020


Two frogs were hopping
down the street
during a drought
that had left them pondless.
“At least we ain’t got warts”
one says
“And no one has chased us,
looking for froggy legs”
replies the other.
When they stop for a crosswalk
a woman spies them
resting on their pollywog behinds
and two-steps her way
over to them,
nodding by way of greeting
“Is it true” asked the woman
that if I rub your backs
I will have good luck
for seven years”
“You’ve got rabbits’ feet
and mirrors mixed up
with magic lamps
and four leaf clovers”
the frogs say in unison
“But what if I kissed you”
the woman persists?
“That might work to our advantage”
the frogs intoned;
“At least a maiden’s kiss
is said to turn creatures like us
into handsome princes.”
So the woman leaned over
and planted his lips
on each of their
fishy little mouths,
causing a brilliant light
to shine through their skin,
blinding the woman
who tumbled into the street
and was run over
by a steamroller.


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I do not see
my face
but that
of a stranger

a moon…
a universe
beyond my knowing…

where water
runs uphill

where stars
do not twinkle…

where time
stands still !

I see all of this
but I
do not see
my face…

my future

Posted 05222020

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What It’s About


It is about
rebirth… the sudden
sprouting of
It is about
umbilical scars
and scars on the face
of the man (in the moon)
and the wanting the wanting
more than a life beyond st*rs
and then a bite of time,,
a rib,, a future…
if only – if only – if only
It is about
dust and what becomes of it
when pushed by celestial winds
when muddied
when squeezed in the hands
beyond hands

first you then me then us
and wanting beyond wanting,,
breathing new life
beyond living

Posted 05152020

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We are clouds linked arm in arm
As we race lightning across an ebony sky
That smothers life on continents below

Where fringed skirts are tinged
By turquoise tides peeping over
Coral reefs beyond the reach of lovers.

We are free of tectonic rifts
And the bunching of sand on beaches
As we race lightning across an ebony sky;

Free to pursue cosmic dust,
To ride the backs of rain drops
To wishing wells and cool lagoons,

Or to race lightning across an ebony sky
In whose bosom secrets of the universe
Are told and retold with each roll of thunder.

Look there! Behind the moon where stars
Once were! Look into the void we left behind
When we decided to link our misty arms
And chase lightning across an ebony sky.


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every poet       every poet
knows that poems
have a skeleton… dusting in a closet,
or under a shuffle of bills, or
darkening in dreams

every poet        every poet
has a kettle of words
boiling somewhere over a heated
imagination, thickening until
they coat the back of a metaphor,
cooling enough to blend
with the yolk of inspiration
without curdling…

every poet      every poet
has scraps of muscle and skin
enough to flesh out poems,
muscle and skin
to cover the skeleton,
to disguise healing fractures,
the misalignment of bones,
to mask torn ligaments and ruptured discs

every poet      every poet
knows that not all skeletons
are found in coffins


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