Old Flame

Cicada whispers
through the twilight of
these darkened alibis
bending ferns
over careless calves
and woodpile memoirs
Emerald bandages
Forgotten fuel
Finger traced outlines
in corkscrew qualms
Wielding ignition with
shared limbs, Serenaded
between the kindling
of hide and seek and
the fires we desperately
wish to re-greet
White noise, tossed
like flattened stone
skimming the mid year
with condolences and
aggravated ripples
Drowning those whispers
with crooked doses
of appeasement


Bind, intertwine
lawns that
spread between
the boundaries of
our growing distrust
Cutting wrists
of sulking indifference
and once
guilty consciences
hang, white knuckled
upon the clotheslines
of our intuition, the
exhausted sounds
will fray heart strings
into chords, Congesting
the sputtering, muttering
winds, Voiced through
picket fences we took
for granted, Yes
when the guilty
hang like flags
aside the pupils of
our tribulations, the
lids will sag beneath
the weight of
dirty laundry and
unraveled lies


She’d become preoccupied
with the way
time lines fell short, Weaving
in and out nights where she
flitted her wings down to
ragged points, And
in the days she felt like leaving
she fell
She fell weightlessly
into the thicket well beyond words
The earth, warm
Gentle against beating chests
The sunlight
swaying, grazing
outlines between
exhausted plights, And
in the moments she felt like flying
she stood
She stood graciously
against doubt, Grounded
with broken wings and open arms


Chills burrow in tongues
and crisscrossed arms
Freight trains inside
crimson currents, I’ve wept
photos into bloodstreams
Graffiti sidelines, Quakes
at each passing scene
Skin raised to mole hills
Prickly sponges
Expanding, Rich
Grimy evidence, Sheltered
between the undertow
of my salient mirages
and cloudy dishwater, I’m
shaking images until
they dry and crumble, tumble
down these pipe dreams

The courthouse backdrop
stands behind these dusty
office blinds, two sidewalks
and a modest street, My gaze
often catching the midday traffic,
sirens, occasional protestors
followed by car horns
and raised voices, The lawn
pruned into a brochure photo
But today, today I see relief
floating from un-caged hearts
Smiles that conquer judgments
and weaknesses, drowning out
those close-minded comments
I see hope in the air and acceptance
in the strength to overcome doubt
Today, my eyes shine with the view
and feel for the progression at hand
Love is love

A Stone’s Throw

You’re jumping rope
with hollow shackles
and broken paddles
—Snapdragon veins
Squeezing iodine into
turquoise hurricanes
Creating eclipses
A song and dance
An alibi to wrap
the ears and fix it
Throwing stones away
from coastline embers
Batting the ashes
Swallowing endeavors
You talk into sleeves and
twist words into cuffs
Peel skin from time release
and then divvy the cuts
Shake footholds
into tide pools
Lap hope with blades
Smooth the edges
and bleed away
with the pacific waves

Legend Valley

Camped along the tree lines
of natures veins, we sang

We sang until the night tapped her
soles aloft moon-swept
lids, Guitars under
smitten fingertips and
harmonicas over singing lips, We

We danced along the outskirts
of altered minds
until the sun raised her
wings aside our barren
feet, Earth between toes
and notes between humming
crescendos, We

We drank the morning through
blades of grass and
let the birds carry our song
up and over the valley

The drumming
bid farewell
through smiling temples and
quenched hearts

Second Wind

Build a home
with these excuses
Iron out the hours
unaccounted for
Watch the steam
curl ribbons
around your fingers
until the circulation
turns blacker than
burnt promises
Replace them with
steel thimbles as
you sew welcome mats
over wrinkles and sheets
over grandfather’s clock
Yawn so deep
you find a voice
between the
charring embers of
ignorance and awakening


Plucked from beneath
matted feathers
Dormant endeavors
Luggage tags with
memories, letters
Unfurl like curtains
Wingspans, refurbished
Tassels meddling
over vanquished stages
Artificial light
to bathe the face in
Pale, over risers
Wobbly, backwards
Tight ropes, mastered
Mustered, from
solitary castaways
White lines
blurring the pain away
Secrets tucked
Rolled into
clench fisted carry-ons
with exhalations that
waft over each fallen


I’m a dormant perennial
growing with the
season that brings
life to the gardens of
my wandering roots
Twisting, Winding
Pulsating against
each prismed ray

But I told myself
I wouldn’t write
about the season change
and that I wouldn’t
emerge too quickly
this time
that I’d wait my turn
to pluck the invasive
vines that had hardwired
into the foundation after
mindless mending
tireless tending
But I’m growing
I’m growing
I’m reaching

I’m growing
with each storm
Each frosty winter

You can take the color
from these dainty limbs
but these roots will
smile patiently
beneath the core


Rode into
the joker’s sunset
click, click, clicking
over each spoke
The Tune,
rise, rise, rising
to the accelerated
pulse, Pedals
twisting escapes
into melodies
by the
slow coast
A gradual
fading of
harmonic distraction
once the
cards slide
from weary wires


Wrap crystals
and weave catchers
Collage horoscopes
upon mirrors and
hang crosses around
necks, Pin ribbons
over hearts
Hold breaths
passed yards
Forsaken graves
Jump over chasms
and expect loved ones
to be saved
Something to assure
dreams are caught
fortunes are bought
and the flair
matches the girl
Kissing wounds
and pretending
lips aren’t just as tainted
We all want something to
believe in, A cure-all
cocktail to pat the heads
of insecurity, Sedated
while the renegades spin gold
out of straw