Tiny Seasons

tiny tiny seasons emit tiny scents
you, blooming lilac - never having actually said “yes”
gauzy vanilla fabric, overt displays of childishness, cookie jars, oh my.
long, long, long, so very long
the torrential busting open of things needing badly to be opened
whisking away unusable parts: all the things we thought we’d always need
you, bearing brightness - new skin, pinkly faded sky - graspingly thankful.

Copper and Sawdust

The time you fell into the river after digging for coins in the hay
Don't rush it. Just wait
till you find what you buried there, so many years before.
And it will all be shiny.
Still the current for a breath and let the air take you back to where it all actually started.
Sawdust and copper, sun-warmed soil, particles passing through a beam of light
Everything old made new again and again and again. 

Still Night

Anchor me with light
In this most
Still night.
Windless in anticipation
So dense
Yet smooth as a stone
Worn on the breakers
Waiting for who knows what? while
This diamond, it is blinding
Shining all around Us
What we knew was there
All along. Thank God
It never hid, just stayed,
Kept pace, anticipating
Illumination in the quietest
Dark. Breathing always, never
anxious: gracious saver of souls
Timeless in its grasp - lighter than
Any air around.
Hold me here, person I have always
Known, and not yet told the World
I will never be without.


The key to a warm coat is a good seal,
keeping the outside outside.
When even our vehicles have icicles, cold
sits on the tip of everyone's tongue.
Salt crunch, pothole windchill, grey melt chap.
Eyes growing weary of white,
white light.

Whiskey Temple

And as for me, I’ll drink my champagne [PBR]
               & cry into my soup – dart lines across the city [MKE]
to reach your gold flaked tears escaping
               a night window, glinting as they dissipate
across the deep dark Lake.
                If this life were a cartoon, I’d want you to draw it –
wouldn’t trade it for a million calorie-free chocolates.
                We’re in this together, but perspective’s
so individual.  How'd you take your coffee?
                Like the Lake: jet black & ice cold
Let’s do this: lotus-shambled and strung out to dry, because
                even when you miss him the worst hurt,
       sun is miraculously inevitable. Don’t sell your soul just yet,
                brunch and more is out there.  Sea glass and driftwood too.