The first one was dubious, uncertain. It was a new place, a new space with a new family. In fact, that there were other people at all was really kind of weird. I mean after all the place I came from us homogenous. Look at this mess.

So I had to roll with it, like you do. There’s a lot of spinning around until you get back to that sign post, that’s how you know you’ve made it all the way around.

They add up though. Some we hang things on like driving or drinking. We think that the tens, and 25th somehow mean more than the others. DAd is done with the whole mess, my niece is only eight into it…

. Hooray! It’s Me day!

Birthdays are great when you forget

About the number


For the prompt haibun Monday at

forgotton fusuma

memories grow tall
painted windowframes peeling
weeds almost reach them

jolly hotei’s face
laughing from the statues foot
unsmothered by leaves

much has happened here
in this old house by the creek
traces disappear


a haiku sequence for the prompt at d’Verse Join us and write one yourself!

its not a window

between this dreary english garden plot and me, a drop of rain remains.
therein lies the whole ocean contained, unconstrained by land, or plans.
relieves the straightedge bricks of pain, comforting like tears, and there again
the salty sea shows itself. the dolphin leaps and laughs with glee, to be
in that infinite ocean, that garden, that windowpane. all i need is there
in one remaining drop of rain, to Be


a prompt on a picture. they wanted a prose story, but this is what came out.

Quickly, now

in learning how to live
the jungle becomes lush
soft-bellied bird landing
through the trees comes a voice
look who comes to visit!
with that light comes vision

what is in that vision?
now the broadcast is live
and in person. visit
your love in garden lush
gift them with your soft voice
cherry petals landing

softly all around, landing
pink before your vision
like pink snow. lift your voice
joyfull to be alive
cherry blossom pink flush
visits your snow white cheeks

like angels, in visit-
ation, realization landing
like thorns amid the lush
bleeds away gloom from vision
learning what it means to live
truly, and speak in voices

clear and strong, loud pure voice
bring that gift when you visit
the one only you live
borne in arms strong, landing
completing epic vision
even the dust seems lush

so what if they blush
or lie with their voices
bring darkness to vision
remember our visits
gear down, prepare for landing
this is what it means to live

god doesn’t come to visit
every garden is lush

coming home is like landing
this song is in every voice

live the fire in your heart
eyes are useless without vision


a sestina after the prompt at May you learn to live, quickly now. And by you, i also mean me. Thank you for reading.

added to the pantry

the clamdigger and the poet

sometimes these words are raked up begrudgingly from the muck
squishly muddy little disappointing salty clamwords
bringing their fictions to the work in the random
pullingnamesfromahat order that holds no justice
if the world is my page, i’ve got no pen for the pace
nor plot. so much is beyond my ken. that i’ll have to face
but the mood and the rhythm, that i can hold
and with luck, still win the race


for the weekly scribblings at

lovecolored light

there are no bounds upon my heart
sunlight is the only blanket i need
love the only word i need
our first gentle foray into other worlds
supplied by exquisite plumbing
knowing my children will need this
illuminating with lovecolored light


the next in a series. these poems are all built as a response to a previous poem, where the first line is an answer to the last line, the second line a response to the secondtolast line, etc. it’s a neat trick and produced some intriguing results. If you give it a try, please put a link to your work in the comments. Details of the mechanics are here:

if you want to follow the series:


Synchronized dancing

These tiny revolutions
Globeish pirouettes
Small circles around the sun
Other celestial bodies come
Into view, and out again in
Their circling dervish-dance.
Some, closer, are snared
Captured, captivated
Pick up the orbits of
Satellites. Come, sit near
Warm your feet by the fire.
Until one moment they are gone.
Unannounced, just vanished.
My longing extends into the
Space that was once occupied
And I’ll read their last poems with that
Feeble light, not knowing if I
Will have the grapes to ever write again.



Leaning on the air
Great wings spread
Out like a quilt
Spread across the bed
Soaring unseen currents
Feeling the unguided medium
Tricking Zephyr to spill his secrets
From white feather peer
Sharp focused golden orbs
Tracking the sheep-spotted slopes below
Groundbound they never look up
Nor dream
They don’t have this ache
Nor This longing
They won’t feel at all
Until the talons pierce flesh
But then it’s already too late


Poetics: Flights of Fancy

a thin line

there is a line

so fine

between thinking

you are gods gift to the world

and knowing that you



i think the knowing the truth of it happens without bravado or cockiness, because there’s nothing to prove. no one to convince. when they say rise and shine, oh how they mean it! You are a glorious gift to the world, and when you can show up, fully in your true Self, you cannot help but be radiant!

Free isn’t freedom

The brave
Have cowered
In fear.
They tow the line
Do what They’re told
And hide
From each other
Behind masks

The free
Have abdicated
And lock themselves
In home built cages
Begging to be surveilled
Dutifully carry their
Tracking devices.
And eat the stories they’re fed.

This was a very successful Dry run
A full scale practice exercise

They were almost on to us, too
Good thing somebody had footage
Of some cop squishing that man.
We couldn’t have planned a
Better distraction.

Can you believe it?
They still have no idea
What is truly valuable