i arise with a sigh
leave you lying in bed
trip to the kitchen
start up the perc-drip
curl up on the sofa
knees to chest
sweet dreams of last night
of your breath on my lips
weight of your body
slip into heat-thoughts
back to the kitchen
on a cloud of contentment
pour rich black pleasure
and my cup melts
with desire sips
may this morning
never end


Promises in the dark
we’ll never fall in love
lasted months
but then
you had to go
because you know
promises must be kept.


With careful planning in place,
Mr. Johnson came first in the race,
He took off his clothes
And pointed his nose
And used all his wind to save face.


in your house
there lived wisdom,
a lifetime of experience
resting warmly upstairs
while your roots anchored
finally to the ground.

though your house
was falling apart
the spiders in your attic
never gained ground,
nor did your hearth
ever cool.

now your house
may be no more
and your spiders have fled
resting warmly around the world
your experience, though scattered,
will live on forever.


humanity – haiku

for all the beauty
celebrate what we have now
gone in an instant

Hiroshima sunrise

Hiroshima sunrise

Craving – run-on sentence poetry

When crisply chipping off
bits of crackers and
scratching down the throat
is what appeals,
yet all that’s
in the fridge
sweetly and
softly with your craving,
it’s time
to go
to the store.


Tired of waiting, for you
(whoever you are)
to come into my life,
I shall create you.

I will knit for you, a cape
(made of feathers)
to drape upon your shoulders,
to give you form.

I will dream for you, a castle
(with a dragon)
so that you may rescue me,
and kiss me awake.

I will sing for you, a song
(full of love)
to rouse you into dance,
so that you may hold me.

I will bake for you, a feast
(of drool-worthy delectables)
and get you drunk on wine,
and whisk you away.

Ah, but to knit, a cape
(castle, song, feast)
for a love such as yours,
is a labour of a lifetime

yet unfinished


how to string together
the words to convey
how much i love you?

my goal
to linger like the fragrance a strawberry
you carry upon your breath all the day

my hope
to pervade your thoughts
much the same as
the ocean’s waves break relentlessly on the sand

my dilemma
to find a way to let you know
i exist

pretend – poetry

we can pretend
that our differences
don’t really matter

that the drizzle outside
is just a wet blanket
like the one
that covers us
when we try to have fun

when we kiss goodnight
we’re not really going
to bed mad

but what good does it do
to make believe we’re happy

they say
love is hard
it’s work
but it has to be
worth working for

we loved

i still love you
but the grass
the drizzle falls on
seems greener
and you
are tired of seeing me
look out the window


Yours are the hands, mine are the feet.

You extend your arms for an embrace and I walk into them.

You paint a pretty picture and I tap dance around my praise.

You throw a ball of kindness and I run to catch it.

You snap your fingers, I jump.

You screw it on tighter, I chase down whoever can lift the lid.

You grab, I fetch.

You clutch, I scram.

Yours were always than hands that took, mine were the feet worn down to stubs in your service.