After writing a one-page blurb at the age of six, I knew I was meant to be a writer. I did decades of technical writing to pay the bills and finally I got old enough to write just for fun. I write poems, short stories, and books.
My latest book…
and not getting very far . . .
It’s been thirty-three minutes
since I visualized his full beard
with my mouth buried deep
inhaling his scent-mingle
flannel clawing my cleavage.
It’s been an entire day since
I checked one of his selfies
his dark brooding intensity
drawing me into a drenching
pummeling monster wave.
Last week was the last time
I paint-plastered the cosmos
dancing nude and deluded
wicked pipedream torture
spawning beguiled howls.
If I can plow through all
this mistletoe and brandy
without grabbing the phone
one thing I swear never to do:
beg, after a man’s been clear.
Only a month
and then the new year
to blast a lingering image
from my synapses:
his long silver mane
sleep-tousled of a sunrise.
Valentines
plenty of time
a new nonchalant probe
potential Latino lover
down the road
a piece.
urgently drawn by my marine maniac . . .
A hang-ten wave all glib and laminar
sucks me into a seashore cannister
eddying agog on a downstairs swim
lungs become gills and limbs are fins
grotto décor in sea-speckled boulder
a billion amoeba in a restful moulder
phytoplankton squishing by my scales
a periwinkle fancy beyond the pale
snotty jellyfish lobs a slick swish
indigo otter goes tizzy…
Kitty protocol on our back deck . . .
High sparkling lemon toasts the deck
my furry little demon cranes her neck
I crack the door open to let her trek
sunrise curiosities beckon a check.
Mz. Kitty spies the entrance agape
switches her tail and dons her cape
sharpens claws on a rattan scrape
slinking away on a lavish escape…
dedicated volunteers hacking away . . .
As outdoor enthusiasts pummel our trails, we may not think about why we have so many scenic trails to enjoy in rugged remote terrain.
My trail fascination started at age seven when we moved away from the family farm where I was born in the San Francisco Bay Area. This…
2021 was a robust year for me . . .
New year is here and I do confess
I detest how people stop to digress
I suppose it’s proper, we got to bless
the fumes spewing from our mess.
Bid farewell to this year of the Ox
with nonstop coverage of our pox
those six feet under and in a box
another year…
plants and birds and rocks and wings . . .
Rollin’ some weed on a shady day
who should appear to guide my way
Dale from a gig back in high school
we took our studies in the whirlpool
bare beach tootsies in purple rain
dragonfly dive-bombs on the brain
hoot so hard we blew our gizzards
then bombarded by alligator lizards…
