inside a box

wrapped in a bow

under wrinkled paper


blue roses

at my door


I am a wildflower

I am a meadow

I am a wide open space


you can’t sit me on a shelf

you can’t put me in a vase


(i’m withering here)


blue roses don’t exist

blue roses can’t grow


I am a wildflower

I am a meadow

I am a wide open space


(you don’t know)








You wrote me in (a certain way)

I didn’t speak my dialogue (correctly)

Asked too many questions

Laughed in all the wrong places

Didn’t gaze up at you (as it was written)

I went off your manuscript

into a poem,

a painting,

a cloud

(and you couldn’t write me back)

The hero will always be hero (you hold the pen)


I’m standing on the balcony

I’m falling in the ocean

I’m setting with the sun


(not every story has a happy ending)

Wouldn’t Bet It All on Friday

shadow at beach

Wouldn’t bet it all on Friday

as Friday came and went

just another square on the calendar

just another face in the crowd

just another coin in the fountain

just another, just another

It goes on and on, the waves roll in

but the tide never really changes

just more broken shells left to find

walked this beach a thousand times

bet it all on Friday again

but nothing changed, what remains

inside these walls of sky again

Broken Glass and Bullet Holes


Inside these walls, fix them up,

build them up again, patch the holes

we’re leaking out everywhere,

seeping through the cracks, every piece of

us, of Us, running down the walls

flowing through the gutters, spilling

away from this place.  Here I hung

curtains of hope and invited the sun in,

but the sun has gone and the glass is

broken and so are we, so are we, and all

that was here is cracked from your words

turned inside out, this house we were,

and all our ghosts and angry walls

can’t contain broken glass and bullet holes.

We take it with us and move on.

I’ll go quietly

i;ll go quietly

a thousand miles

down the shore, I walked

before the gulls weary wings

and mine, we rested

by walking the sea’s remember

you once walked here, too

before broken shells

and words, winter’s bite

echoes of tidal times

moon phases, things

you can count on



one set of footprints in sand

even the waves know

erase it all

quickly, so we don’t

look back, so stark

these clouds who used

to gather down, they look

away now, just me

a one way trip

I’ll go quietly

my book published: this little bird’s song


Hello and thank you all for your patient support!  What a busy time, and we are now closing in on the holidays here (my favorite time of the year!)

For anyone who might be interested (feel free to skip over if you are not; I surely understand!), I have a new (little) book out of short poems and micropoetry called this little bird’s song

The book is available at, both in old fashioned paperback form and in new-fangled Kindle form!  If I can figure out how to post a link, I will!

Thanks, as always, for your continuing support.  The blogging community is great!

I think this link will work if you are interested in taking a look

Little Bird Sea Shore


Little Bird Sea Shore

little bird

ocean shore

walking the edge

waves, skitter skitter

stop, beak the sand

in and out along

the tidal know

you stay you go

little bird I watch

you see

skitter skitter away

from me back and forth

sun to moon you

wait rolling waves

advance retreat

finally you fly






broken path - Copy

it’s not far, that distance between
and the way your eyes looked away
clouds that look like angels
fade back to white on blue
those things we build upon
stacked on sand instead of stone
cracking, crumbling, falling down,
silent questions louder than lightning strikes
distance appearing like fog over water
doubt thick in the air
and where the cracks are
your questions grow like wildfire
I burn

Weathering Me


when the sun was still early in the sky

and the waves broke easy near the shore

I waded past knee high white caps into the Atlantic

early summer smiled and so did I

floating through what the sea rolled my way


hours like minutes, until the clock faced sky

began to fill with cloudy hands

the water churned mixing salt and sand

the roll pulled me down the shore, but still I rode

swam harder to keep time with the sea


the sun sank lower, watching me

clouds spread darker, angering the sea

I grew smaller and more tired, floating out the waves

still I stayed in that day

where else would I be?


the tide began to rip and pull at me

drew me out further, where the surf broke high and loud

I dove beneath, let it swirl above

but it all came faster and faster

trying to keep up with the sea


my breath was short and salty

what I had left was low as the falling sun

watching as a breaker swept over me

tossed beneath its turbulent green

I washed up on shore, a piece of driftwood


next wave hit me square, spun me under

pulled me back, so I stayed at the edge and didn’t leave

sun still watching, still waiting, still listening

I was salt and sand and part of the sea

wave after wave weathering me




what once floated on lost

grew roots from the sky, and they

wrapped around clouds, painting them

luminous and full of harmony,

and the roots of found rained down

in gentle hold, showed the trees

how to stay the seasons, how to last

they spread and deepened, wove

through time, centuries of roots,

paths that crossed and crossed again

until it became one path that grew

and led us home

before we knew


the places we gather


how we hide

in between

the pieces of yesterday

and the rise of tomorrow


us, and through all time

we didn’t know but walked


trying to hold water


with our hearts, and how

it rained down

rained down








Waiting For You


The sailboat waited for the wind,

for the tide to rise, and the clouds

waited for the sun, while the trees waited

for rain.  The river waited for the moon

to tell its tidal tales, and the fish waited

for the river to flow their days.  And it was

quiet, and still, and I was waiting, too.

I was counting tides on the sailboat,

waiting for you.

you left behind


i fell off the edge of the world

tumbled through time, through

the air you left behind.  you flew

away inside of me. I stayed

and cried, my insides

empty runways,

clouds melting into my head

asking why, why I was stilled,

holding the air you left behind

For the Man I Saw Die Yesterday


I’m sorry sending the angels was all I could do

as I knelt in the glass and mud.

Spring won’t come this year.

I didn’t see you until you almost

hit the back corner of my car, almost

took me with you, rolling, scraping, across concrete,

flipping, air dirt air dirt, glass, metal, tree –

almost –

I already knew before my car came to rest on the edge.

Smoke began to rise from your truck, and it was all

so close

so close you were to me, to the tree, to right side up and upside down,

to where you were going,

so close.  I asked them to be with you,

the angels,

when the other voices yelled, “Step back!”

And today what’s left of your almost –

a tire with a white cross and flowers,

but still,

an angel,

so close.

Baggage Claim


you’re on a plane but you are not coming home,

waiting in line, third for take-off, a life through

oval windows, and you’re off again, gaining air

losing ground, time spend moving around,

departures and arrivals, runways and wind direction,

climbing and descending, landing gear,

it’s just another day, another day I drink tea alone,

another day the sky claims home



Use all your tools

To crush her, to grind

her unrecognizable.

Show her what happens

when someone leaves

you, leaves YOU.

She’ll be sorry when

there’s nothing left

of her but




Watch her crumble,

stomp on her, kick

what’s left, and then

call her a breakdown,

a total loss, a waste,

watch her fall

trying to save

the children,

holding them

up, keeping

their heads

just above

your angry

tide, while

you, you

laugh at

her struggle,

watch the waves

swallow them,

and whisper in your

tiny, monstrous voice,

“I win.”