The way she spreads her legs,
like a letter of despair,
as the wind bellies with
a thousand voices,
and her mouth becomes a tomb
of little girls, a cacophony
inside a stale womb -
too warm to sing with an eagle's flight;
angels pressed in her diary,
waiting on their second birth -
'till she borrows a half wing of a casual moon.

"if not winter, when?"
they are not words i wrote
i have borrowed their beauty
from sadness the poetess gave them
entwined in my own
subtle twists to tales
an ebb and flow that
makes women sigh and
men raise arms to fight

a past season when
snow gave landscape depth
no horizon

an unclear path
hidden until spring

I dry my tears in my eyes

and throw my wish lists away

the flowers dazzling with brilliance

brighten up the dull sky...

Gold chrysanthemum, red spider-lilies

and even stardust!

They bloom and dazzle, and then fade

and-oh! They bloom again

Just like the flowers of the earth!

I wonder why they have to be so beautiful

And yet, short-lived.

If they could only bloom much longer,

Maybe they will shame the meaning of life's happiness...

The sound of my name upon your lips
is a beguiling caress
there is a warm invitation
in the way you speak to me.

I feel an intimate familiarity
that spans the physical distance
to but an arms reach

When you speak to me
I am enveloped in an embrace
that steals my resolve

Through the darkness of a late night
you speak to me and send my heart
racing with excited stirrings

I hold my breath in anticipation
of the magic your words weave
You have but to speak to me

to fall asleep under a tree
blue shades of grass
laid back dog pal
and mud between my toes

one more shoeless day of denial

rosebud, my rosebud

now today, a tuesday afternoon
a knock on the door
I cringe

life goes by
as fast as hummingbirds
on tiny wings
too full of motion to see
she's not restless like me
she knows her place
finds her duty and
applies it

searching for nectar
stopping only
to realign herself

i watch from the balcony
her busy attitude reminds me
i cannot be tied
cannot be settled
always knowing there is more

and like the hummingbird
the next flower is adventure
next new scent
next new person i meet

The most beautiful place on earth is the beach. The beach is where I found my inner peace. The first time I ever went to the beach was with my spiritual brother Stan. He owned a carpentry company and was offered a contract to remodel the kitchens of the beach front home on Myrtle Beach. Stan called my husband to let us know that he was on his way to do this job at the beach and wanted to know if we wanted to stay the night at the beach with him, his son Charles, and Charles’s wife. His son and daughter in law worked side by side with him in his business at that time.

She stands on the corner, outlined in the rain
Hikes her skirt at passing cars
and tries to hide her shame

Never thought she'd be a whore, sell her body to the night
Now, the need for a fix again
leaves no strength to fight

The yellow headlights of the cars, offer warmth, an easy mark
The motel room smells dirty
but at least it's dark

Feel the golden glow, the push of ecstasy
She looks into the dresser mirror
says; " It's not really me"

It is an amazing story
interlacing and interweaving
every chronicle of every history
into a volume of life
worked to the smallest detail

plots and twists and mini themes
with everyone its hero

What great mind could author this?

A saga over eons
a tome with billions of characters
interacting
each at the centre of its own universe
printing the pages at the forefront of creation
living the words
learning the thoughts

Deconstructing in an attempt to comprehend
a genre of mixed emotion

california offers
no excuses
vanilla scents and
tastes
as if experience
is a first time
i sample it with
no expectations
a surprising occurrence

the entertaining flavor
will have no lasting effect
the sweetest fruit
never do

yet life gains another moment
to savor when days
wait

how sad it becomes
a time line for death
while courage lingers
almost as a ballerina

on nervous toes

another swan dies
in a land of indecision