Tuesday, August 15, 2023

poem

 (untitled)


Walking through the paradox

it appears birds

are fine, fine metaphor

for women and men

set upon a sexy planet;


the plumes and color

and proclivities

amongst the trees and

shores along the seas

bespeak the creation,

within which

things are rarely

seen for what they are

in the moment—


past defined,

fixed the instant

a creature alights

into and from.


Saturday, August 5, 2023

Fingers Crossed

Hopi Poem

 Hopi Poem


To go unrecognized for decades on end

is sometimes very difficult,

but can be done—aye, and

primarily by seeing yourself

as character upon a stage

of Sun and Earth—

the only two

audience members

that really matter.

Tuesday, August 1, 2023

poem


(untilted)


I wish I could hold you,

our faces 

searching for kisses.