that little bird under the leaf.
she didn't hide from me.
she hopped out,
to take a look.
Tickle your toes. . .
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July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
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wide-eyed and curious, he peeks from his shell with seaweed speckles, where 8 monarch butterflies landed permanently. he puts his footing on...
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
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when our bodies clasp each other my heart lights a beach bonfire- and my toes forever step in it's embers.
Poets United Contributor
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