Category: Poetry
-
Sex Outside My Door
I walked out my front door yesterdayAnd the scent of sex clapped me full in the faceI looked around to spy the sourceHalf-expecting a cassanova crouching in the bushesAll I found was a shrubCovered with pink coquettes‘Looking for a good time?’ it asked me‘Uh, maybe,’ I said‘Well buzz on over here and give us some […]
-
Woman Eating Breakfast
There is a womanWho sits alone at her table next to her picture windowAnd eats breakfast – Like most of us – But this woman lingersOver poached eggsKeeps vigil over buttered toastPonders two pork linksRecalling every morning the one loveWith whom she was linked for so long She waits and watches over her backyardGlancing through […]
-
While Still So Much of the World Works
While still so much of the world works,While Piner Creek still giggles as it flows,While the coastal oak guards its leaves and the valley oak gives them away,While the hooded merganser and her mate return to this brook bend again this year,Let us not fail to love that which asks nothing from us but close […]
-
Horrible
I want to stumble upon a cache of horrible poems by Mary Oliver But before learning that she was in fact the person who wrote them I want to laugh at them, to guffaw and tsk and shake my head “Hey, listen to this!” I will shout at someone across the room, and then I’ll […]
-
To Fall Like It Fell
I want to be like this treeThis live oak here in this canyonI want to fall like it fellTo be caught by the same soft ground Toppled, it sees the world anew, from belowIt has new friends with new needsA lizard seeking refugeA pill bug licking its pill bug lipsWaiting for the tree to die […]
-
This Is Not A Poem
During sabbatical, I’ve been focusing on writing as a practice. In other words, I’ve been focusing on writing as process and not product. Yes, I’ve created this blog and I’ve been posting here and people have been reading my words and sometimes clicking “like” and sometimes commenting so I suppose these posts are a “product,” […]
-
Yet
Close to the center of the seat of power A boy walks in black Vans And his favorite plaid fleece, black and white, with flecks of pink The dog-eared cold does not faze him The traffic, noxious and insistent, rolls right off him This boy, one boy, from one town among so many Dreams of […]
Almost a Conversation 