early February in the desert —
the sun is springtime warmth
the breeze, winter’s leftovers
poems
Muted striations
sand-dust with cream
intensely mauve’d rust
velvety blue-grey-indigo —
layers of early winter’s
desert dawn horizon
Brisk breezes
weathered winter leaves
skip and tumble down the road
racing towards the spring
Alone in mid-night
Midnight — the luller
Midnight — the advisor
Midnight — the fabulist
Blend & blur
late winter and early spring blend and blur
in pleasant days and chilly nights
penetrating sun and gentle cool breezes
with stirrings of life, subtle and green —
mornings that light ever earlier rouse us, but
sunsets that still come in evening’s youth lull
O! Nature
Nature —
exquisite beauty and elegance
antique yet fresh
blackout poetry created from “Pericles,” Plutarch’s Lives, Dryden’s 1859 Clough translation
Release
the wisdom of age
takes root to blossom
in crevices of the brain
emptied by letting go
Entranced
autumn leaves rustle
the tension out of me
on pleasant breezy days
sunlit gentle tree, i am
a ragdoll under your sway
Fractal
shards of memory
jagged-edged
broken emotions —
wholeness
is the fossil
of childhood —
growing up
fractures
many things —
Ossifight
Somehow, I got old
before really learning to be young
the old in my bones is calcified
the young in my soul is still growing
End of life
no matter which end-of-life decisions were made,
there are always regrets, there is always that guilt —
live parts of me holding onto memories of a dying you
dead parts of me holding onto living memories of you
Middle ground
Failure is not frailty.
Success never guarantees.
Kitty
Paws carry heart and fur,
Whiskers and vibrato purr.