Earth and Man

Will she even care

When her rapist meets his maker?

Of course. How can I comprehend

The inner workings of the mind

Of the mother whose son treats her

So badly?

Look, I don’t even know it’s not

Her mind that drives her, but something


20210719. For

No, wonder!

No wonder
With these bicameral brains
Observing this land of separation
Where everything is cut in half
Walls and fences and borderlines
No wonder we lie in one bed
And wonder…


Each moment is a choice
Two futures unfold from each moment
In one, I write this
In another, you read this
In another, this mango is delicious

For Nancy

One of those stories

This is one of those stories
Those eager exciting pageturners
A storied adventure, high seas
Deep jungles, really anywhere
Quite unlike your home
You know the kind, gripping
Daredeviling globetrotting romps
That grab you and bring you along
Throwing punches, stealing fire
Looting ancient temples.
This story tells you everything
You ever wanted to know about yourself
It fills your soul like zephyr in the sails
Of pirate ships. When it does end
In that calmness you won’t remember
If it said anything at all



Rekla je Tete Katicia
Te smokve divlje smeđe puretine nisu one koje bismo trebali
Jedite, zeleni su oni koji su dobri
I bili su veličanstveni
Viseći s drveta poput grudi
Tako slatka mekoća ispod kože
Oni najbolji iscurili su
Nektar u noći i ukočen
Svjetlucajući poput jantara na jutarnjem svjetlu

20210604: a translation of Smokva

Moving Day, ii (Dig)

what does the poet’s spade look like?
what coldhearted pointed tool sinks into the dictionary
lifting syllables up into the light?

what of that gardener
who has fallen off the clay piedmont
onto the sandy coastal plain?
(it looked the same till the shovel sank in)

will these poems translate?
will that blueberry bush, who was
limping along year to year,
thrive in this different soil?

20210604 for the challenge at Earthweal, where we look at the work of earthpoetry.
20210610 added to for open link night. Check out our other poets!


Tete Katicia said

Those wild brown turkey figs are not ones we should

Be eating, It’s the green ones that are good

And they were magnificent

Hanging off the tree like breasts

Such a sweet softness beneath the skin

The very best ones had leaked their

Nectar in the night and congealed

Glinting like amber in the morning light


For the prompt at inspired by How to Cut a Pomegranate by Imtiaz Dharker

Teach me little one

What is it that keeps this bird in its cage

Why is it this baby screams all the day long?

Teach me, little one

I’ve tried to be heard but talked my throat hoarse

Help me remember, approach the world with curiosity and wonder


Days roll by with few words, or vignettes blink and are gone, till a prompt stirs and letters fall like rain, and a puddle begins to make sense. A quadrille for the prompt at