Poet Laundry

I want to search your depths and find veils and smoke, that will vanish at last in flame.            --from Eve's Discourse, by...

Harmonica in hand, fedora tipped, he sits on the curb at Pike Place,            a glass at his side. I don't q...

i didn't point it out actually, i didn't even notice but that's how love is,                                     ...

Green winter notes in January bleed into February-- scent of pine, lavender,            honey in my tea. We slice lemo...

Image via Amazon Yes, it's a real place, and we stayed near it for a night. Well, almost. We stayed until shots rang out...

Townsend's Warbler, the Pileated Woodpecker, Varied Thrush. Red-breasted Nuthatches, Black-capped Chickadees, Che...

write me a song with your eyes like you do hang up your helmet, your axe, come home to me © 2015 Jennifer Wag...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - winter garden tiny grave beds (tu)lips are whispering, “ come, sp...

image © 2015 jennifer wagner a red blossom, bloodied burqa,              voice                         buried sto...

I won't play your eggshell game. It's a drag and you can't hold me hostage anymore from who I am, fr...