Snapped this shot a few days ago.


This Ink

Just a bit away from 50-years-old, I’m still a kid at heart. Poetry is a way for me to connect to that heart, that kid, in a very tangible way.

This Ink

I search this ink for dragons,
for the heat that softens
the daisy’s stem,

invites the tortoise to burrow
deeper into its mud.
I delve to hear the echo

of goblin song slap
against the clammy damp
of dark caves, to scrape

my fingers against
the rough tremble of the monster’s belly.
Here is where joy saunters,

where magic is hidden
beneath the dry husk
of an autumn leaf

and the wolf’s howl
calls me to play.

Tomorrow’s Coffee: a Narrative

My last post was inspired by a broken coffee date with a good friend. Today, I am inspired by tomorrow’s rescheduled coffee.

Image result for coffee mug still life painting

Tomorrow’s Coffee: a Narrative

I’d like to consider
the air about us,
and the steam that rises
from our cups
to anoint it,

a penmanship,
a fine tale,
like the letters
that blacken
the pages we’re reading,

grand stories:
apples and dragons,
shadows and roses;
of course, we’ll drink
before all grows cold.