The Whole Earth Shakes

Lift up your heads!

He comes, riding on the clouds,

Shining like the sun,

The whole earth shakes!

He is the King of Glory!

Hosanna in the highest!


Midas Two

Please return to me! I am transfixed and cold as stone.

Your breath upon my neck was molten honey,

Your horrible sweet strokes left me starving.


Return to me! Loose me from a Being of all eyes yet unseeing.

Your touch left me fair and golden. I am beautiful as a corpse,

As a subject for framing. I am gold as stone, a goddess in a painting.

Midust Tears

Creepy Crawl across my heart

Burning holes

Left gold tears of fire


Swan like beauty, golden thin

Binging, purging

Perfection in lilac chiffon wisps

Spring Bombs

Appearing like yuletide balls

Spring bombs

Sun against lunar pull exerting



Converging in the heavens

Collecting, growing

Storm, wind, hail, destruction, sure


Her beauty is the moon

Always moving

Best when Easter comes early




A Coming Change…

Today is still dark outside my window.

A promise of sweeping chill.

My mind and senses groan for the coming of it like the bee to the flower.

Come, Fall in all your glory!

Come with your cleansing wind!

Brush away the stickiness in my head.

The old stuffy clamminess, heat, and stuff of piled up

summer  dog-days weighing me down.

Brush through my hair, my brain and soul.

Let me sprout a pair of wings perhaps, that I could dance on your breeze!

Or set me free upon the air in a huge rising balloon so as to see the entire earth.

Let me sense, touch, taste, breathe, live into the crisp sharp newness of Fall.

Unfinished Thoughts

A writer’s dream, fulfilled in my very hoping,

Complete in silence, speculation, unencumbered of mind.

Ah! The mess is the latter thought.

As More of Tudor’s Court once evoking,

“Words, words, words. It is all only words.”  

Less than dream, featureless, exuberantly blind.

Unfinished now, yet not for naught. 

Tuesday’s Child Full of Grace ll

My heart

Grandma’s love

Raising tiny hands

For joy of life

So sweet

The Taxidermist

Cold as stone, he found him.

Lifeless matted friend .

Sled a’home took him.


In lamplight dim began.

Thawing fire a’blazing,

Chipping, tearing, cleaning.


Warm as toast, he made him.  

Lifelike woolly king.

Stately, grand and grazing.


Through shining rays he witnessed,

Sprouting crown and smile.

His parsnip fell again. Amazing!

Summer Morning


                                               Strange dainty pods               Pop on dewy prickle

                                               Rooty faces appear                  Gnome-like wonder

                                               Knobs from faces                      Gnarl up new joints

                                                                Knees spiral sun-ward           

                                                                       Pod   Tree  Knee  

                                                           Backyard Cypress Knee Swamp  


                                                                       Summer Morning