there is a small leaf over your eye
and yet you can still see me.
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Tickle your toes. . .
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it's not possible. I think the problem must be- too much love and hate.
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
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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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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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When standing in a garden of profundity everything loses it's meaning... and when stopping to smell the chromatic wisdoms you are lost i...
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August 2003! A spree, and the W.A.P another month of you and possibly me W.A.P stands for wild animal park, if you don't remember- the ...
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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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to have sticky pins for fingertips and ballpoint pens for thumbs. then I could fascinate myself to you, and write away doldrums.
Poets United Contributor
Gosh I love your poems. Every detail impresses. Your blog is going to become a favourite of mine, I think.
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