Autumn Nonsense

Not long now;

I can almost smell the smell

of turning,


Autumn soon

my sweet, little baby autumn

so welcome to rest

upon my breast.


Marble Head

I would take

this big head of mine

and shrink it to the size of a glass marble

if I could,

and not even think twice

if it were to roll away

off the side of a cliff

and shatter,

at least then my head could

be of some use

the scattered fragments

could reflect the sun

create sparkling flicks of twinkle,

or cut someone.


Today’s Weather

How intently and with purpose the wind blows

with every gust and turn in direction

it  is the sweet laugh of God

combing through my hair

and untangling my scarf.




Have Been

I have forgotten myself many times
mostly on purpose
I have made days go by without saying
hello to a mirror
and have been even better
at making nights disappear
suffocating myself under blankets
the easiest place to be
where words are muffled and sounds elude me




Skipping Rocks

I would skip


with my feet plunged into moss

curl my toes underneath mud

grip myself

turning a stone over in my hand

weighing it with every rotation

to make sure it wouldn’t just


to the bottom of the brook

though if it did

it would not be lonely

because there are plenty of others

who have


to the


and nestled themselves

even after they’ve skidded the rapids.




A Little Nature

If only i could lie

in the grass for more

than just a little while

I could graze the atmosphere

with my drifting eyes

turning my head this way and

that way

I’d twitch my ears

to tune them to the sound

of daffodils being kissed

by tiny insects

I could wipe my nose clean and

inhale perfumed stardust

that would shake itself off

and hitch a ride on currents

golden flecks falling through my hair

hovering first like a halo

and I would not mind nibbles

from creatures polite enough

to make their presence known

take what they need and then leave.




Wings And Tied

It has been a long time

Since I have listened to chirping or

A flutter

A far cry from usual territory

Out of range by a long




Like a propeller, where there is a chill

In the air


Or do not if your bones permit

If your fragility

Has not caught up with you

And your garb is puffed and fluffed


In flight you are


On solid ground

You are canvass and backdrop

All in one




In a most translucent way

That there may be less chance

Of foul and etched irritants

From gilded feathers


Of a nuisance