Paychecks are your fate.
This cheap paper defines you.
It dictates your life.
black exhaled the stars
shaking alive this cool mist
a quilt of moonlight
I hear the forest
whisper in the springtime rain
the secrets of life.
Death Notice picture
yet another empty house
for my neighborhood
in the road's middle
a phlegmatic butterfly
not quite rush hour yet
youth and innocence,
running barefoot in the grass
frolics through my dreams
we left the ocean
a few million years ago
and long to return
deer browse forest edge
turkeys strut among the oaks
life rests ? time breathes deep
Shorn of foliage
Standing secluded and sad
Trees show signs of age
Skillful fisherman
the patient white heron waits
just biding its time
Like a splash of ink
Black against the parchment sky
The raven flies past.
sheets stir in the breeze
mother laughing in linens
a moment alone
A drop of sunshine
falls from the weeping sun down
to the dying earth
A bolt of lightning
Reminds me so much of life
A flash and then gone
See them our meanings.
Clouding, crystalline. Living
heat spoken so brief.
Life spills and scatters
Each atom cast from a blast
Like suffering snow
when you die i hope
it was because of kindness
six feet in kindness
son of a black hole
daughter of a dying star
two humble burnouts
awaiting the day
eight minutes its journey takes
bathing earth in light
Writing freezes time
A moment that will live on
When the writer dies
Wheat sways with the wind
Leaves rustle and move around
It is harvest time
Hawk circles hours
Above Johns Peak He can't find
The way down either
Loneliness aches like
Physical pain. Time heals wounds,
Scars last a lifetime.
Smoke escapes his lips
Dead air floats on his soft breath
But hear his eyes smile
Without a shadow
Creating how time can slow
A dragonfly's wing.
In my current life
Sleep is just a memory
Words crawl through my mind
She embraces death
With a kiss she tries to leave
Her family dead
tiny drops of time
drip into ripples of age
memories accrue
The trees of my youth
Branches swaying in the breeze
Pecans fell that day
Rainy Winter day
perfect time to stay inside
and write poetry
Imagination:
Closed eyes let us make believe
life's not as it seems.
death shroud of white mist
borne on whisper-soft cat paws ?
river valley morn
insouciant hours
crazy hopscotch and leapfrog
in the spring garden
Cold gives way to warm
This season hope starts anew
Today I saw you
the alarm clock whirrs
with dark incongruity
it is Too A.M.
Young Weeping Willow
Cascades just over the Earth
Shimmers, Mystical