Poet Laundry

The rain like silver sky fish scales falling here at midnight, like I am, into you, waiting. The moon, fragrant, white, bloss...

En Route I slept, mostly.   The trip taking longer than usual.   Cat scratching holes in the blanket under her crate. Tranquilizers t...

Sand shifts this brittle, black driftwood mood out to the inhaling sea with a booming, insulting sneer, carrying footprints...

April, I am starved for light, bring a little, please, to the window where I can see summer lolling about the hills afar of...

From the window of the Moon Tree, the marina is desolate— a glum fairy tale with a solitary gull poised to flee. A police boa...