Clasping my hands behind my back, I survey the sights from the kitchen window and breathe deeply the wind that docks from the mountain tops tucked in clouds. All is fair, if one counts birds and lemon treesagainst the straying plastic trash kicked up by flattened car tires and pulsing hydrants. The neighbor boys clatter skateboards against the stretched asphalt, heat dust wavering between ground and sky. Crisped linen shirts wiggle freelyon laundry … Read More Open Window
A blue bike leans against the iron railing. It is bright summertime in Ukraine and the railroad lady tends a garden full to blooming with cucumbers, beetroot, squash she bends over in a frock like livery. Her blue buttoned uniform blossoms from beneath the frock, the cuffs kissed with splashes of dirt kicked up from the motley flower pots. She hears a distant whine— she unties the bow and drapes it on the … Read More Oksana
The waves on south shore Oahu are limp during the winter months. Adrenalized surfing doesn’t take place until April (really mid-May), when surprise swells from the Tasman Sea rip into the bays of Waikiki and Ala Moana. Sudden waves barrel on top of longboards, chipping them against the coral heads exposed during low tide. And such a surprise swell last April!
Available in paperback and e-book, Articulated Soul is a collection of 50 poems in five categories (Kansas, Austria, Indonesia, New Zealand, and Hawaii). These poems catalogue the many fragrant emotions of living abroad on one’s own, the sites and smells, the insecurities. Supplementing the angst are 25 original collages, expanding the metaphor of influence and creativity. Grateful acknowledgment is made to the editors and … Read More Announcement!
Did you ever think you could live this long? That the tongue which rattles the potato-burn ridges of gum would grace the scoop of inner teeth to say love? That love could hold your hand for twice as long as you let it & still remain to brush teeth together in the cool evenings —
I know about the dough in the oven. Hot and wild tempered left a little too long on its own, I know the shoots and bangs and whirls the catastrophize the inner workings of my Bosch broiler. With tiny white rings on the brown crusted boule I know the tilt of the rise, the slashes I placed the claws in claws out. … Read More Still Life with Figs
Bird says, “set the coffee here, please and oranges if you have them.” Between green wings, that of a bamboo shoot so light green it’s almost wilting, Bird grasps the white ceramic handle and lifts the mug to his beak. From his high perch
Valerian gardens, gardenias in the rosebushes sunlight twilight and mountain rain makes everything grow like this. Tricolored notebooks rest easy on the table near me and the door opens once more. The door opens. Has been opened. Will be opened.
Weary eyes opened wide propped up on toothpick espresso cups licked clean, licked smart the woman in the wide-brimmed hat warm breath, wild thoughts tells us of visions, the dessert dunes camels in hand Mount Tahat in the dust kicked up no way! some shout get outta here!