These scattered trees mean a lot t… And so often I think that here I’… Many years ago I sent a message Or two. On how I’d explore your f… Teenage fantasy written in bliss m…
I felt you Press into me I eased round you like A memory foam mattress Though I hope for more
Blossom blew off the tree And there goes life I thought As I walked my dog and he limped… And tried to muster a small shower At every lamp post and tree
I am no word-smith I am the anvil Beaten with a hard And heated hammer Scolded by others’
I have a drawer I’m afraid to use dust gathers on it, the entire stretch of carpet around it is preserved
Wandering from point to point And stretching our legs We do what we do And we lay our eggs But no matter how large
And then, waking the breathing slows And relaxes the tightly clenched jaw, unfold the huddle of limbs
The tactile brush of pages across… Trace memories and images of thing… I hold here in my hand a collectio… Concentrated emotion holding more… Another, and I can cry again at t…
Ah! So now I take requests Apparently. You, sure and certain state the im… Of male genetalia in poetry!
Listening to the gale blow, I recall the banshee of memory, Spectres of what was haunt my thoughts, And I recall the pain,
A sudden gust of wind and through a shiver I see a tree explode sparklike leaves shaken free a wide brimmed hat blocks the view
As I see her across the road, I want to call out ‘Wait!’ I dream of running after her, Of magically fixing things.
The flower in your hair Was a bit worse for wear the petals that remained Looked rather drained. Even the stalk was crushed.
There are those So full of life that Even my cynicism cannot be matched You are such, and
Coffee is something of a ritual Standing tall, I repeat the mantr… “Flat White Please” Sometimes to go but best to stay As I sit and stare at your eyes