snip snip snip cutting ties that have bound and cut off the circulation to my heart stich stich stich stiching and weaving the love that is close more firmly and deeply into my life snip to the fantasies snip to button eyes snip to deception stiching care and love stiching co-creation stiching radical honesty no…
breeze blows in languid summer lying in sunlight leaves fall from Madrona tree
girls playing on a zip line the scent of clover his voice merging with sunlight
“If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all.” ~John Keats Poetry, life and love can be so easy when we allow them to be. Let’s allow it. Let’s lie in a field of buttercups watching the clouds and wiggling our toes and let the…
I cut myself yesterday at a party. My daughter came over and blotted my sliced knee with a paper towel, dabbing gently. It was very dear. We asked the hostess if she had any bandaids. She came back with them along with some antibacterial cream. As she dabbed at my cuts, I thanked her for…
the fire was spun like caramelized sugar with a smirk (and the hissing) my tongue, wet and hungry reached out to closed spaces (closing spaces) the balloons soaring above the firelight taking a piece of me into the embers below (with a hiss) it darkened and everything went cold the fire remains but doesn’t warm…