How can they know what I do not show

It’s true I don’t know what it’s like to be a black man
And I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman
At least, not in this world, not in this lifetime
You don’t know what it’s like to be a cop
Today, your job is to get shot at.
So here’s the thing:
I do know what it’s like
to be around people
that don’t know what it’s like
to be me
but if I’m in that place
It’s because I haven’t shown up.


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:



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!

sacred storiography

in the halting jerky movement of bramblic pentameter
these words struggle through the thornyunderbrushes
the multiverses turn in their regular or eccentric orbits
our storylines overlap or depart, firmly or etheriallistic
withoutotherwords, ley lines i’ll call them, and look for
&relish, those sacred intersections


bringing together two prompts, the earthweal weekly challenge for sacred places, and the dverse challenge for brambles, which often surround those places. Their berries do make a fine jelly though.