Apr 24 2021

morning’s manifesto

i threw away all the curtains
because i want to see everything

i’ve grown old on a mantle of marble
i’ve breathed love into statues of stone

i wrapped grey over hard faded rainbow
because gold is the color of own

Apr 22 2021


the day starts


tea and sunshine

rye and wheat

mess and murmur

that’s it

that’s all there is

Apr 21 2021


time winds down

and i think of hours




chopping slicing dusting folding sweeping typing
designing walking rinsing eating reading roaming
washing preparing gathering weeding building
sorting sifting scrubbing changing twisting

staring at sky




Apr 20 2021


i built a new corner
and walked straight into it

left the paint on the floor


held my arms high and my head straight

buried the forgotten

forgave the remembered

worshiped nothing

but silence
and the tenacity

of trees

throwing spring green buds
into air

like so much


Apr 16 2021

the non-peculiar life of mabel grey

the taste of tea and whispers of envy

smells of green and cinnamon
rolling through a harbor of unbalance

too late too much too early too little

promises skitter in every dark corner

wallflower flower built for keeping
pressed between pages

hidden bouquet


Apr 12 2021

picture perfect

squirrel fight

dove coo

blue jay belligerent


skin soaking up sun

anti mirror

wide smile






and she walked
the center line
straight past
the pond
of forgiveness



Apr 10 2021

the grey period

dipping one toe in

the cold is brutal


this is where i live


old and grey
and somewhat silent

no one cares
except when I creak

sitting alone
in my sun-filled corner

i have always had grey cats

a favorite color
in a tiny life

lived beneath every rainbow

where the bluebirds bring me sky
and I am just a figment
of a girl’s imagination

holding court
at the laundresses
tea party

and you are the shadow
of my joy

Apr 9 2021

the way things sometimes are

she chose
the flower

he named
the scent

Apr 7 2021

tell me a story

and i’ll show you a seed
left to dry in an envelope

or an avalanche of words
dropped cold on a doorstep

or a curtain barely moving
in a window filled with need

Apr 4 2021

ordinary lives

a broken phone
will not deliver
cries for help

an ordinary walk
an ordinary day
sun shining down on both of us

a conversation
standard pleasantries
locked inside a panic box
neither fixable
nor fixed
in place
or time
or mind

it’s like i’m trapped
inside my own body

you said

can i ask you something
are you afraid of me

an ordinary house
an ordinary room
your dog asleep in the sun

as you broke into pieces
again and again and again